


The Bond

by ArtemisArcher83



Series: B Series [3]
Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F, Family, Romance, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 17:05:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 69,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4713767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtemisArcher83/pseuds/ArtemisArcher83
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(As posted on FFN) Everything seems to be coming together perfectly for Helena, Myka and Christina. Newly engaged and with a baby on the way, what could possibly rock this boat? What surprises does destiny have in store for Bering and Wells and will their bond survive the journey? (Follows The Bubble and The Bump) Bering and Wells!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Myka stood looking over the balcony, peering out over the multitude of shelves that housed the Warehouse’s numerous artefacts. She was no longer allowed to venture down to the Warehouse floor. Even if Artie, the Regents, Mrs. Fredrick and her fellow agents hadn’t insisted that it was too much of a risk – letting a pregnant woman mix with the unpredictable objects – Helena’s absolute insistence that they take every precaution had convinced her that she should abide by their caution.

Sensitive to her girlfriend... no, fiancée’s fears, the lanky agent didn’t want to cause her any unnecessary stress, though she was also determined that Helena wasn’t going to make her sit around for the next seven months, doing almost nothing. She anticipated many bones of contention between them on that front.

A little over a month ago, she recalled feeling as though she could happily give up this crazy existence for a quiet life with her two favourite people, but as the reality of every day monotony caught up with her she began to chafe at the restrictions her colleagues and partner placed on her. She enjoyed research, especially research with Helena (and the inevitable distractions), but she itched to be in the midst of the action again, to chase down bad guys, solve cases on the run and neutralise wayward artefacts just in the nick of time.

Was motherhood going to be this dull? Helena seemed to think that she wouldn’t have the energy to feel bored once the baby was born, but surely there would come a point when everything became second nature and life would begin to slow down again. What then? She didn’t want her future to revolve solely around their children, no matter how much she loved them.

Such a strange life she led now. Standing there, looking over some of her accomplishments, Myka had to smile when she thought about her first few weeks on the job. How she’d scoffed at every last thing to do with the Warehouse and not even tried to hide her contempt for what she thought was a demeaning job; a punishment for some unknown crime, or perhaps, for failing to save Sam.

Now, she was engaged to HG Wells, pregnant with the Victorian’s child, step-mother to the inventor’s artefact-cloned daughter, and almost every part of her life revolved around something that had come from or was part of the Warehouse.

Thinking back to those early days, Myka was reminded that Helena had still been trapped in bronze and was torturously aware of her own inner demons and their insidious whisperings.

Could their beginnings have been different if she’d known then how much pain her idol was in? Would she have paid more attention to the alluring Brit’s silent moments, asked about things that went unsaid, instead of allowing the older woman to distract her with sex?

It was so easy to assume that their lives would have been smoother, had they known then what they knew now. That they would have been spared so much pain and that everyone would have been better off if only they could have seen where the end of their loneliness and despair would come.

There was simply no telling what would have happened with that knowledge though. Perhaps they would have made their commitment long ago; perhaps those boys in Egypt wouldn’t have died; perhaps Helena would never have shared anyone else’s bed; perhaps they would have rescued Christina sooner, but there was no way of knowing and thus, no point in dwelling on the what ifs.

What mattered was that they were happy now and it behoved them to appreciate these moments as they arose.

Leaving the balcony, Myka returned to Artie and Claudia’s office, the only place she was really allowed to work, other than at home. She preferred working here though, despite the perks of being at home and always close to her lover; it gave her a change of scenery and helped her concentrate on her task. At home, she would hear Helena and Christina playing their ‘learning games’ (as HG called them), and when Christina was occupied, Helena thought nothing of spending her time seeing how long Myka could ignore her before they fell into a heated make-out session. Though she treasured the opportunity to witness the adorable scenes between mother and daughter, and she loved fooling around with her fiancée, the environment was not conducive to being productive.

Claudia immediately bolted from the adjustable chair that she loved to play in (when Myka didn’t need it) and swung it round to offer it to the older agent.

“Lady Bering, your carriage,” the red head offered the seat with an exaggerated bow.

Myka rolled her eyes but smiled gratefully. “Thanks Claude. Ever since the morning sickness kicked in, my back seems to be taking all the strain, and I’m not even showing yet.” Sighing with relief as the new ergonomic addition to the office hugged her in all the right places, she looked up at her colleague. “I dread to think what I’ll be like in seven months.”

In her usual hyper manner, the young IT whizz dragged Artie’s swivel-chair over and straddled it so she could fold her arms across its back. “You’ll be finer than fine. We’re gonna take such good care of you, you’ll be wanting to pop out little baby Bering-Wells geniuses every year.” Myka gave her such a horrified look at the thought of that scenario, that Claudia recoiled a little, her chair rolling to safety, propelled by her feet. “Or not.”

Turning to the desk in search of something useful to do, Myka shook off the uncomfortable feeling. “I might actually be looking forward to this... unexpected addition now, but I highly doubt it’s something I’ll ever do again.” She picked up one of Artie’s files from his ‘case in study’ pile and began flicking through it, unaware of Claudia’s changing expression.

Somewhere during their conversation, the feisty red head became aware of what her friend was wearing. Feeling puzzled, she stared at Agent Bering’s hands and frowned. “Is HG so paranoid that she’s got you wearing purple gloves all the live long day? Or are you shooting for some sort of girl-love birth control? If that’s the case, I think you’re a little too late to start worrying.” She chuckled to herself, sticking her tongue out when Myka rolled her eyes again. “So what’s with the oh-so-fashionable Warehouse accessories?”

Blushing now, Myka smiled, already anticipating Claudia’s reaction to her news. “Well, Helena has asked me to wear them while in the Warehouse, but I was hiding something too.” She chuckled a little at her young friend’s sudden acutely focussed attention. “Ok, Claude, just try to keep the squealing below ear-splitting volume, alright?” Slowly she removed one glove and then the other, all the while watching the red head’s expression.

“O.M.HG Wells, what a rock! Myka! Huge squeal!” Claudia propelled her chair hard enough to crash into the desk and both woman chuckled as they held down piles of papers that threatened to avalanche across the work surface. When they were fairly certain that they’d saved Artie’s research, both agents breathed a sigh of relief. “Seriously dude, you have like the best girlfriend... sorry, fiancée.”

“It’s actually an interesting story...”

Myka launched into her explanation of how she’d bought the ring as a teen and only returned it to the inventor after discovering that it had been intended for her. As she then described how Helena proposed to her, Claudia could no longer contain herself and performed an impromptu happy dance before collapsing on the couch with a goofy grin on her face.

“You guys are too cute. I’ve been overloaded by sugary cuteness.” After a minute or two of babbling nonsense, Claudia sat up again. “So when’s the wedding?” she asked, the moment she finished gushing over Myka’s story. “I think yours truly will make an awesome wedding planner. Don’t you agree?”

The pout that followed the younger woman’s declaration brought a fond smile to the senior agent’s face. “I’m afraid Christina beat you to it, Claude. But I bet she wouldn’t mind having you as her understudy,” she teased.

Claudia shrugged and pretended to think about it. Nodding slowly, she indicated her approval. “I think I could manage that.”

“It’d be a weight off my mind actually. She’s got grand ideas and Helena does nothing but encourage her.” Eyes narrowing, she peered seriously at her young friend. “I know you will probably go overboard too, but at least you’re aware of my comfort limits.”

With a sharp salute, the techie fixed her position as assistant wedding planner. “Check boss. No princess style or Comic-Con dress up themes. Classic meets minimalist and just a touch of Warehouse topping.”

Myka frowned. “Warehouse topping? Claudia, tell me you’re not considering using an artefact to... jazz up my wedding.”

“Pfft!” The red-head’s hand moved through the air in dismissal. “As if I would do that.”

Narrowing eyes said that Myka didn’t quite believe the young woman, but she didn’t say anything. “We’re not sure of a date yet. Helena wants to get married in London, which means we either put a rush on everything to tie the knot in March, or we wait a few years until this one,” she put her hand over her belly, “Is out of diapers and old enough to travel with, without too much carry on.”

Streaks of red and blue tilted to one side as agent Donovan’s thoughtful face came into play. “You could always do both,” she finally commented with a shrug.

“Get married twice?” The brunette questioned sceptically.

“Well, lots of people renew their vows. It could be like that. Or you get married in London and then have the ‘wedding’ back at home.” She threw her hands out wide like it was that obvious.

Myka continued to frown as she thought it over. “I don’t know. I get nervous enough just imagining doing it once, let alone twice.”

Through her excitement and growing exasperation, Claudia turned once more to her friend and adopted a serious expression. “Myka, think about it. You can have your small, intimate ceremony with just you, HG and little CJ,” she paused to let the older agent picture this scenario and saw immediately the interest that rose in those intelligent green eyes. “Then when it comes to standing up in front of everyone, you’ll have already done the hardest part, it’ll just be a matter of letting everyone soak up the excess Bering-Wells love and score hoards of presents.”

Gradually, a small smile graced the brunette’s features. “That’s actually not a bad idea. I mean, other than the hoards of presents, though I’m sure Helena and Christina wouldn’t mind. They both enjoy being the centre of attention.” This time the eye roll was of fond exasperation. “I’ll see what Helena has to say about it. Trying to convince her to tone everything down will be a challenge.”

“I’m sure you could think of some way to persuade her,” Claudia winked, feeling smug for her contribution.

Before either of them could make any move to elaborate on the idea, the door to the umbilical opened and in shuffled their harassed looking boss. Claudia took one amused glance at him and turned back to Myka with a mischievous expression. “You totes have to have the wedding party here; we absolutely have to get him into some formal wear. Preferably something that’s not, _shudder_ , brown.”

Watching Artie almost collapsing under the weight of the box he held and seeing that Claudia was making no move to help, Agent Bering stood and moved automatically toward him to take some of his burden. Bushy brows drew together and disapproving eyes honed in on her.

“No,” he barked in his usual no-feelings-spared manner. “Sit. You!” He turned to his young protégé. “Get out of my chair and make yourself useful.”

Shooting Myka a look of apology, the red-head bounded across the room. “Keep your pants on Grumpy Bear.” She huffed out a gust of air as the weight of the box felt into her arms. “Jumping Jedis Grumps, what have you got in here? It weighs a ton.”

“Just put it on the desk!” the director puffed with difficulty from his end.

“It won’t crush the desk?” Myka wondered aloud as she continued to watch them struggle, feeling helpless.

Two sets of lungs let out long, relieved breaths. “No,” Artie grumbled. “It doesn’t weigh anything now nobody’s touching it.”

Feeling ever more curious, the brunette looked back and forth between Artie and the mystery box. “What makes it heavy when you touch it? Where’s it from?”

“Guilt. It’s a confessional seat from the Vatican. The more guilt a person feels, the heavier it gets.” He leant back in his chair and appeared thoughtful for a moment. “Christina could probably pick it up, no problem.”

Claudia whistled. “Mental note; don’t let HG try to pick up that box.”

Myka nodded her agreement. “It must be pretty powerful if you can feel the effects through the box.”

Turning towards his desk in search of something, Artie grunted. “It is and it isn’t. It all depends on the user, or victim rather. The guilt of thousands over hundreds of years has made that seat into an artefact. It crushed the maintenance guy who tried to remove it; he was a veteran of some conflict and participated in raping and pillaging through several villages and was never punished for his crimes. I’m going to have Leena and Pete move it to the Catholic aisle. Once it’s on the shelf and so long as we don’t need to move it, there should be no problem.”

A thoughtful silence filled the room for several minutes as each of them reflected on this story and their own guilt. Eventually, Artie gave Myka some research that would keep her busy most of the afternoon and Claudia several tasks that he expected would keep her busy and out of trouble for a month or more.

Tomorrow was New Year’s Eve and they all had the next three days off, baring emergencies, to enjoy the end of the holiday season. Myka wanted to wrap up every last task from Artie before heading home for the day so hid herself in the seldom used library while leaving her two colleagues to bicker as usual.

Time passed swiftly as she delved into one file and then another. There had been a number of disappearances from a props warehouse in Hollywood and Pete had been the first to volunteer for the job, dragging Steve along with him in the hope that ‘a bit of glam and glitter’ would pull the reticent agent out of his funk. Agent Lattimer had taken it upon himself as ‘straight best friend’ to be Agent Jinks’ wingman. Much to Agent Jinks’ dismay.

So far they had nothing to report, and since no one else had gone missing, there wasn’t much for them to do other than to keep researching. Artie had already called both agents home, but Myka knew that Pete wasn’t going to miss an opportunity to spend a (sober) night out on the town with his best gay pal, even if Lila, Artie and Steve were likely to kill him when he got home.

At five o’clock Myka had packed up and was bidding the still bickering pair in the office farewell. There was no more overtime for a pregnant agent with a child and fiancée waiting at home for her return. In the past, she had relished any opportunity to continue working, feeling miles more confident in her career role than her private one but, most of the time, going home was now the highlight of her day.

Pulling up behind Helena’s car and killing the engine, Myka thought back to her morning conversation with Claudia and smiled as she grabbed her bag and made her way up the recently shovelled path to the wreath-laden front door. As she pulled her key from the lock and finally stepped into the warmth of the house, two familiar voices cut through the air, carrying with them the sense that all was not well in the world of eight-year-olds.

“Regardless of what you desire, my darling flower,” HG’s forcefully patient tone came from just beyond the top of the stairs. “Like your own, the birth of Jesus is celebrated but once a year, and now that the day has lapsed, we must all return to the dull, humdrum of everyday life, sans Christmas decorations. I suggest you enjoy them while you can, love.”

Eyeing the direction of that voice, Myka realised that it was getting closer and approached the bottom step with a half-amused smile, waiting to see her lover’s appearance. No matter how bratty their daughter sometimes got, Helena’s patience was almost endless.

“But it isn’t fair, Mummy!” A petulant voice proceeded HG’s arrival at the top of the stairs.

“It rarely is,” the inventor muttered to herself just before she spotted Myka and began to descend to the ground floor. “Hello, Love. Have you come to rescue me and bring some sanity back to my day?”

In her introspective mood, Myka saw her lover’s descent in slow motion. Deft fingers of the Victorian’s right hand, stroking the handrail; her shoulders sloping gently beneath a casual shirt, each meeting to form an elegant length of neck that was irresistibly kissable; ebony hair dancing close to a refined jaw that, even in her darkest mood, Helena held high, poised and daring her observer to challenge her.

Forest green met mahogany brown and fell into one another. As Helena stopped on the last step, for once looking down on the American, Myka released a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “I think watching you walk down stairs is my new favourite thing,” she confessed before giving her brain time to process the thought. HG chuckled and the younger agent blushed, her gaze immediately falling to her toes.

Helena placed two fingers under her fiancée’s chin and lifted those expressive eyes back to her own. “Flattery will get you everywhere my dear.” Strong fingers surrounding a leonine neck, HG pulled Myka’s lips to her own and claimed them.

Sighing into the kiss, the brunette’s hands reached out to find purchase on a toned waist and pulled just hard enough for the Brit to take that last step and slide into her arms. The inventor’s upper limbs wound purposefully around her shoulders, hands and fingers gripping gently to the back of her skull to hold her in place as lips parted in silent invitation.

A loud and deliberate cough broke their oblivious tranquillity and both women pulled back reluctantly, their eyes promising unknown heights to one another as they parted and welcomed a pouting girl in their midst.

Christina’s shorter, skinnier arms replaced her mother’s around Myka and she buried her head into the hollow of her sternum. “Hello, Mama,” she greeted, her voice dramatically subdued.

Myka smiled as HG rolled her eyes. “Hello, Sweetheart.” She tightened her hold on the girl just slightly and kissed the top of her head before leading her into the living room and collapsing on the couch with her. “What’s with the sad voice and why are you torturing your mother?”

“I want to keep the lights and decorations up; they’re ever so pretty, Mama. Why do we have to take them down? Wouldn’t the house look nicer if it was sparkly all year round?”

HG wandered over to the fireplace and stood watching her girls fondly.

“But if we leave them up all year, they won’t be special any longer and they’ll lose their effect,” Myka attempted to persuade the stubborn girl.

“That’s what Mummy said,” the eight-year-old commented into her Mama’s shoulder, sounding as if she wasn’t at all convinced and was disappointed that her step-mother shared the inventor’s opinion.

Glancing in sympathy at her partner, Myka then shifted slightly to look into puppy-dog eyes. “Well, Mummy’s right, Sweetie. I know it’s a bit sad, taking everything down and saying goodbye to Christmas for another year, but then we can look forward to Spring and make new decorations for the new season.” Watching the pout give way to interest, she continued. “I’m sure Mummy has told you this already too.”

Interest now turned to guilt and Myka was reminded of the box sitting on Artie’s desk. “Perhaps,” Christina admitted. She laid her head back down on the taller agent’s shoulder and looked through her eyelashes at her mother.

HG’s brows rose with amusement. “Ah, the look of remorse,” she observed, moving across the room to settle next to the seated pair. She picked the girl’s feet up, placed them on her lap and ran her nails over the sock-clad soles, eliciting a series of brief twitches and giggles.

Struggling in vain, Christina glared indignantly at the older Victorian. “Stop it, Mummy!”

Hearing a challenge in the girl’s tone, HG’s eyes narrowed ominously, her long fingers reaching for known weak zones.

Christina squealed and climbed onto Myka’s lap to escape the gleeful torture she knew was coming. HG’s stretching arms reached for her and with practised grace, the girl rolled off the couch and scooted to safety. Her eyes were bright now with excitement, waiting with keen anticipation for the chase. Her gaze flicked towards the door as her mother slid off the couch with the same ease of movement.

Myka watched as, cat-like, her fiancée stalked their child, moving to try and block the exit. She saw Christina’s gaze dart again to the door and, quick as a flash, the two Wells women were a blur of movement.

Peals of laughter rang through the house, erasing all memory of tantrums and sorrow. Myka let her head fall against the back of the couch and listened to the happy chaos for several minutes. Eventually, Helena returned, with her prey slung over her shoulder, short bursts of giggles still bubbling from her prize.

Depositing the wriggling lump back on the couch, HG sat in front of her, trapping the girl against the cushions and grinning triumphantly at her partner.

Myka tried to pretend that HG’s antics were not at all amusing, but the expression on the inventor’s face brought first a faint smile, and then a full grin, until she was chuckling along with the muffled snorts coming from within the cushions.

It was a good day when tears could be turned into laughter and as Helena finished putting Christina to bed much later, Myka heard a faint apology and soft words of reassurance following her from the girl’s room.

She met her lover in the library, a cup of tea waiting on the table and convincing flames flickering from the faux fireplace. With a mug of decaf coffee between her own hands, Myka leant her head back against Helena and stared across the room, listening to her partner as she read.

 


	2. Chapter 2

It was still dark when HG woke the next morning. That fact alone made her groan internally. Only in winter could her sleep cycle end before there was even a hint of daylight peeking through the gap in the curtains, but even so, she still preferred not to rise before the sun.

For a few minutes, she tried to will herself back to sleep, turning once, twice, three times, all the while being careful not to wake her companion. When her eyes wouldn’t remain closed though, she gave in and, through the heavy darkness, she watched her lover sleep.

It was rare that she ever had an opportunity to appreciate Myka in slumber. Typically, the brunette would wake early and rise before Helena’s body was anywhere close to being fully recharged. Myka was an early bird and Helena a night owl, but somehow, they managed to curb their natural instincts just enough to find a routine that suited them both.

Myka had confessed that she cherished the hour of solitary peace before the rest of the house was awake. She told of how, in the library usually, she would drink her coffee and often read, and at some point, would enjoy listening to the symphony of sounds that marked the beginning of the day as her family shuffled sleepily out of bed.

 HG on the other hand, spent the evenings that didn’t involve making love to her fiancée, in her basement lab, tinkering with her inventions and working out new theories. There were no more all-nighters though. Once upon a time, she could have stayed for days in her lab, appearing above ground only to find food or use the facilities, but her sense of responsibility was strong now and her desire to be with her loved ones greater than any need to make new discoveries or crow about her inventive prowess.

Thinking back to early days in her brother’s basement, Helena contemplated her self-absorbed actions in a new light. Thirst for knowledge and desperation to prove herself were the excuses she used to shirk her responsibilities. In hindsight, she rather thought that arrogance had been her truest motivator. Christina’s arrival had served to ground her somewhat, but before that, she saw herself almost as a god among mortals, gifted with a keen wit, drive, intelligence above her peers and defiance to the end. She had verbally crushed unbelievers without a care for status or reputation and stubbornly pursued a lifestyle that only men her age were free to follow.

How many times had she boasted to Charles, in their secret sibling language, of her ability to attract men and women, belittling his limited success at a time when the name HG Wells was still relatively unknown? How many women had she played at love with? How many men had she used?

At twenty-four years old, she should have been married and making a home for her husband, but she refused to be moulded by society and spurned all advances in that direction. At least that was one thing she still felt a sense of pride for.

Her contribution, amongst many more deserving and outspoken voices, had paved the way for future generations of women, like Myka, to grow up in an environment where women were allowed to want to be educated and lead their own lives like their male peers did. An environment where they were not expected to tie themselves to a man if that was not their choice. An environment where their opinions and skills were valued and not dismissed as flights of fancy.

It wasn’t perfect. There were still many inequalities floating around if one chose to look for them. A woman was still seen as a whore if she wasn’t discerning about the number of lovers she took. The ‘walk of shame’ seemed a title reserved only for women and was flaunted plainly in the media. A woman who strayed from a relationship was a cheat whereas a man was vaunted as a player, and enough women embraced or ignored these insidious labels for the practice to continue.

Feminism had become a label for the huffy women who just wouldn’t be satisfied with the world until they ruled over men. In the developed world, women had a stronger foothold, and from the inventor’s perspective, her sex enjoyed a freedom she had only dreamed about in her youth but, though pockets of equality were growing, there was still a long way to go.

Bringing her thoughts back into the room, Helena focussed on Myka’s breathing, the rise and fall of her chest and the small puffs of air that escaped her elegant nose. The brunette’s face was half obscured by the pillow she was hugging, one arm cradling from below and the other resting on top. Hair, wild and free, framed features that she adored, and with careful movements, HG fingered some of those curls, appreciating the softness and the way they wrapped automatically around her digits.

Watching Myka was akin to observing many of the world’s mysterious wonders; fascinating and nearly impossible to understand how such a marvel could exist. She was irresistible to experiment with; Helena loved pushing her buttons to see what result she would get. Her motivation was usually based on passion or a desire to see those green eyes light up with laughter, but occasionally, she had an urge to poke the bear and would deliberately exasperate her lover to see her fire burn hotter, brighter.

There were no words to adequately describe the expanding sense of light and heavy that filled the inventor in that moment. It was love, fear, awe, desire, unworthiness, acceptance, joy, pride, determination and a whole heap of other emotions that, mixed together, were unrecognisable. Myka was hers. Not because she owned the other woman, but because she had been given the honour of carrying and protecting her heart, her love, and they had chosen to share this life in each other’s company for as long as that love was alive.

It was on this train of thought that Helena found her eyelids getting heavy again. She stretched out, as close as she could to Myka without waking her, and drifted off into a light sleep, ready to be woken the moment her companion began to stir.

* * * * *

After waking up to find Helena’s eyes watching her, blinking with sleepy joy, Myka’s day seemed set to be a good one. Her first hour was spent in bed instead of the library, whispering secrets and sharing anecdotes, alongside long periods of silence where only kisses and sighs of contentment were exchanged. It was a nice change of pace to begin the day within the protective circle of her partner’s arms and that shared warmth stayed with her, like a barrier, unbreakable against the hazards of daily life.

Christina’s continued, though considerably subdued, mutterings about the festive decorations brought a smile to Myka’s face, though she was careful not to let the girl see her amusement too much. Throughout the day, she would catch Helena’s eye and time seemed to pause for them, letting them communicate without words the depth of their connection.

Following a light dinner, because both adults insisted that party food wasn’t nutritional enough for a growing girl, the three of them donned their winter gear and trampled the short distance to Leena’s, where their evening’s entertainment would be.

By eight PM, they were standing in the communal room at the bed and breakfast, chatting amicably, nibbling on snacks and all enjoying the gathering of family and friends as they waited to greet the New Year.

Just past nine, Pete had most of them up on their feet, playing a strange combination of musical statues and blind-man’s-bluff.

At half past ten, Myka stood in one corner of the room, sipping a non-alcoholic beer, that Pete had bought so now she had to drink, and watching Helena chat to Jane Lattimer while Christina lay drowsily across her lap.

A wistful smile shaped her mouth now, as she thought about the events of the last year and considered their expectations for the year ahead. So absorbed in her thoughts was she that she missed the sudden, silent appearance of a figure beside her. Several seconds passed before her peripheral vision kicked in.

Jumping slightly, Myka held tighter to her drink and turned an automatic scowl on the imposing caretaker. The admonition on the tip of her tongue died as she realised who had startled her. “Mrs. Fredrick,” she acknowledged tightly.

The ageless woman gazed across the room, unaffected by the annoyed tone. “The senior Miss. Wells appears a good deal more relaxed these days. You’re influence I assume, Agent Bering?”

Myka shot a quick look of incredulity at her superior. Why did she insist on asking questions that she already knew the answer to? “I try to help her as much as I can.”

“You underestimate yourself.” Turning her probing gaze on Myka, the caretaker’s eyes sparked with a knowledge that seemed unfathomable. “The higher we climb, the further we have to fall. You’re helping her build the net that should catch her. That is no small feat.”

Frowning, the agent stiffened and looked sharply at her companion. “What do you mean? Are you saying that something terrible is going to happen to her? To Christina?”

Ever unfazed, Mrs. Fredrick’s calm gaze landed on Myka. “I cannot _see_ into the future, Agent Bering. You’re support is invaluable to her, that is all I wished to say.” She glanced down at the brunette’s hands and a half smile appeared for a brief moment. “Also, to congratulate you once more.”

Blushing slightly at her outburst, Myka looked at her ring. Almost as if it were a part of her body, she felt a stirring from the new addition to her wardrobe and a wave of calm washed over her. “Thank you. I’m glad you didn’t need to confiscate the rings for the Warehouse; Helena was so happy to see them again.” A moment of silence passed between them and the brunette thought carefully about her growing suspicions. “They’re bifurcated artefacts, aren’t they,” she declared gently. “I don’t know why I’ve been allowed to keep them, but I appreciate it nevertheless.”

“The rings were made for you, Myka.” The older woman’s expression softened marginally. “Their imbued gifts will only work for you and, by extension, Agent Wells. Since this is the case, it was not necessary to confiscate them.” She gazed at the younger Warehouse employee with a penetrating expression. “You have never seen an artefact that didn’t negatively impact upon its user in some way. The nature of your job is to hunt down and lock away those that would cause harm or could be misused. There are many benign or beneficial artefacts out in the world. We keep a close watch on them of course, as we will with yours, but for the most part, our interference is not warranted.”

Sensing that there was no need for her to comment further and that any questions she might have had would go unanswered, Myka turned the conversation to more mundane topics and eventually Mrs. Fredrick excused herself to discuss caretaker issues with Claudia and Artie. Once alone, the agent felt an immediate desire to be at home where she would be free to ponder this new information at her leisure. She stepped into the kitchen for a few minutes with the excuse of fetching Helena another drink and leant against the counter by the sink.

If Helena’s rings had been made for Myka then everything leading up to this moment had to be fated. Right? Christina’s death. Helena’s fall from grace. The torturous years spent in bronze. Myka’s appointment to the Warehouse. Their desperate actions at Yellowstone. The time spent in Limbo. All of it. Her whole life had been just a prelude to this moment.

What did it mean? What would come of this union that was important enough for the cosmos to put it in motion? Was there more to being gifted with her soul mate, or was she reading too much into it? She didn’t know, couldn’t be sure, but thinking about it was making her dizzy.

Like she had known that her lover was in trouble, Helena appeared behind Myka just as her pregnant partner began to worry that she was going to black out.

“Myka, what’s wrong? Love, you look pale.” She reached out to a nearby chair and pulled it out, guiding the taller agent to sit. “Here, I’ll get you some ice.” She reached into a cupboard for a tumbler and filled it from the freezer before placing it on the breakfast bar.

“Where’s Christina?” Myka asked automatically. No matter how ill she felt, her first concern was always their daughter.

“She’s upstairs, taking a nap. I promised we’d wake her before midnight.” HG pulled another seat close by and placed her hands on either side of the brunette’s body, afraid that she might fall. “What happened?”

Myka placed a cube of ice in her mouth and leant forward without a word to rest her head against her fiancée’s chest. She breathed steadily for a few minutes while Helena stroked her back, and tried to put the overwhelming thoughts out of her mind. “It was nothing really,” she began once the ice had melted. “Mrs. Fredrick just told me a few things that got me thinking too much and I just needed a minute to calm down and not jump to conclusions.”

“What conclusions?” The inventor asked, frowning and considering the necessity of having strong words with the caretaker.

Palming the second cube that she’d just placed in her mouth, Myka shrugged. “Fate. All the things that had to happen to bring us here, together. She said the rings were made for me and I don’t think she was being figurative.” She sighed and popped the melting ice back in her mouth.

Quietly contemplating those words, Helena bit her bottom lip and continued to stroke her lover’s back. After a while, she let Myka sit back up and checked that she looked better before relaxing into her own seat. “There are many things that I regret, though I wouldn’t change anything if the alternative meant not being here. Collateral damage, like the agent who died as a result of my carelessness and those young boys in Egypt who lost their lives in Warehouse Two. As for Christina? Did she have to die to bring us together? I can’t bear to think of her last moments in my cousin’s house; the horror she must have faced, but she at least seems unaffected by it.”

Myka swallowed as a tear escaped and rolled down her cheek. “That’s one saving grace,” she agreed. Her eyes met HG’s, a fire burning behind her gaze. “I understand it all so much better now; everything you did. You made them pay for what they did to our baby. I don’t care if her death had to happen to bring us here; they deserved your retribution.”

The hard fierceness in Myka’s tone touched a deeper part of the inventor’s mind and a little voice inside roared its approval. However, the newer, reformed HG frowned with concern for her fiancée’s sudden anger and sorrow. “Darling, they may have deserved punishment but it should have been dealt with differently. I tortured them until they sobbed and begged for the end. In killing them, I killed a part of myself.” She watched her partner struggle with her feelings but eventually the calm, patient woman that she knew began to emerge.

“I’m sorry Helena. I didn’t mean to bring this up, especially not here, now. I don’t know what came over me, I just...” she ran her hands through her hair and looked around the kitchen for an answer. Her gaze returned to the Brit’s and she grasped HG’s hands between her own. “Lately, I can’t seem to help this urge to hit something when I think about what happened.”

Smiling in understanding, Helena pulled the American forward slightly and kissed her gently. “Your body is changing, Myka. You know what it’s like now, to feel that life growing inside you. That and your love for Christina? It must change how you feel as a mother.”

Myka nodded; it made sense. Still, there was more. Something intangible that niggled at the back of her mind, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. “You’re right. This feeling has been building for a couple of months, I feel closer to her now than ever.” A smile crept up on her, eclipsing the pain that had painted her features just moments ago. “It doesn’t really matter, does it? You’re here, she’s here. We’re together.”

“No love, it doesn’t matter.” They kissed again, conscious this time of the bond between them that even time couldn’t seem to penetrate. “I would willingly spend a thousand years in bronze provided you and Christina were waiting for me on the other side.”

Closing her eyes as she continued to lean against her lover, Myka sighed. She appreciated the sentiment, but the idea of Helena being trapped in that dark, lonely place for any length of time was awful. “Let’s hope that will never be necessary.”

Midnight soon approached and HG led her wife-to-be into the communal room with the rest of their mismatched family. She left briefly to fetch their daughter and returned with a grumpy looking eight year old.

Christina spotted Myka and made a bee line for her, curled up on the couch and promptly fell asleep with half her upper body resting in her Mama’s lap.

HG chuckled and seated herself on the brunette’s other side, her right arm winding around her lover’s waist as long fingers found their way into her curly hair and urged her closer. They ignored the catcalls from certain excitable people and settled back to see in the New Year in their own blissful way.

The past was out of their control, Myka thought to herself as Helena’s tongue flicked against the roof of her mouth and danced with her own. For whatever reason, their lives were intertwined, their future uncertain but looking bright. It was ok to have doubts occasionally, or to wonder what challenges lay on the road ahead, but it was also imperative that they didn’t waste their time together worrying about what might be. She had spent so much energy helping Helena to overcome some of her fears that it would be counterproductive and illogical to begin erasing that success with her own growing anxieties.

Whatever was causing this niggling caution in the back of her mind, Myka knew had something to do with Helena and Christina. Since she couldn’t tell whether it was something good or bad, it really wasn’t worth worrying about... yet. She would listen to her body, she decided; pay attention to her instincts, and not let panic and fear overcome her.

If there was trouble at the end of this path, she wanted to be ready for it.

Christina continued to sleep through the chaos, stirring only once to snuggle closer to Myka and frown at the harsh blare of the three party blowers Pete shoved into his mouth.

As the noise eventually faded to a more bearable level, Claudia and Pete’s impromptu conga train come to a halt and Lila grabbed her boyfriend to pull him into a heated embrace.

Collapsing next to Leena and Steve, the young techie watched the couple with a scowl. “Looks like the grown-ups aren’t going to be piper-ing this party through till dawn.” She turned to her best pal and slapped his thigh, making him wince. “What say you Poopy-Pants? Shall we go and paint the town in Rainbow Bright?”

Annoyance at being hit quickly turned to incredulity as Steve’s eyebrows shot up. “What town? Unless you want to drive all the way out to the city?”

Slumping back into her seat, the young red head sighed her quick defeat. “Frack, you’re right.”

She watched as Lila whispered something in Pete’s ear and he immediately raced out into the hall to fetch their coats. Myka and HG weren’t far behind as they finally managed to get Christina’s shoes on and helped her to stand still long enough to put her winter gear back on. It was a great feeling, seeing their family growing, but the changes were a shock to her system sometimes and made her feel lonely. She missed Todd, and Doug.

“The new Warehouse better be near a decent hangout,” she muttered without thinking.

“New Warehouse?” Agent Jinks hissed into her ear.

Next to Claudia, Leena rolled her eyes. She despaired at the young genius’ inability to keep a secret sometimes. “It will move eventually, Steve,” she told the agent as if he should have realised that already. “Since Claudia might be the future caretaker, she will likely go with it.”

The red head sent a grateful smile to her curly haired friend and ignored Steve’s unconvinced gaze. Jumping out of her seat, she high-tailed it into the hallway shouting, “Just going to see everyone out!”

Leena smirked to herself as she watched Claudia go and then shook her head. “She never slows down. She’s like the energiser bunny.”

Watching the bed and breakfast owner smile after his friend, Steve’s curiosity shifted from the fate of the Warehouse to the gentle longing on his companion’s face. He’d never witnessed that look on her before. Knowing that it wasn’t his place to question such things, he followed after Claudia, meeting Artie and Vanessa, who were already at the door, and eventually they were all gathered around the porch, waving and wishing their friends a happy new year.

 


	3. Chapter 3

“Mummy!? We absolutely must not be late!”

Christina Wells was eager and ready for her dance and drama class. Her bag, she’d packed all by herself and she was covered from head to toe in the warmest clothes she owned. She jogged up the stairs as nimbly as her ensemble would allow her. Aware that her mother was nervous about this day, the young time traveller wanted to make sure that her Mummy would have no excuse to want to stay at home instead. Not that Helena ever intentionally reneged on a promise, but things would be more pleasant all round if the elder Wells had less to worry about.

“Mummy!?” Heading straight for her parents’ bedroom, she curbed her impatience and knocked as she had been told she must, and then waited, her foot tapping against the pale, plush carpet. She heard the familiar sound of shuffling and grumbling and huffed when she realised that they were doing it again. Whatever they found to do for so long in bed, they certainly liked doing it often. Her fist fell harder against the door this time, hitting nothing but air on the last knock as the door flew open.

Similarly impatient and somewhat dishevelled, Helena observed her daughter with exasperation. “Why the devil are you making such a fuss?”

Folding arms that were twice as big as usual, Christina stood her ground. “You promised we wouldn’t be late,” she reminded her mother.

With a hint of guilt in her gaze, HG ran her fingers through her hair and looked at the digital display by the bed. They still had plenty of time and she sighed in relief. “Love, we are not close to being late. Do not fret.” She took in the still present frown on those perfect features and the bulk of her winter gear, which seemed as if it was becoming uncomfortable, and smiled fondly.

“You always say that,” the eight year old continued in the same tone. “And then we’re always making haste at the last minute.” She deflated slightly as her mother tried not to roll her eyes, but then two understanding green orbs appeared over the adult’s shoulder and she felt her hope return.

“She’s right, Helena. This is her first class, we don’t want her to make a lasting impression for the wrong reasons.” Kissing HG’s cheek and then the corner of her mouth as her head turned, Myka hugged her closer and hummed contentedly. With a parting peck on the curve of an elegant jaw, she took Christina’s hand and led the girl back toward the stairs. “Let’s leave your mother to fix her clothes so she’s fit to be seen by strangers,” she winked at her daughter and they both chuckled at the indignity on HG’s face.

They left her muttering something about ‘drama class’ and being ‘fashionably late’. Myka felt somewhat guilty for the negative attitude, having been the one to instigate the heavy make out session that Christina’s arrival had interrupted, but that was one of the perils of being a parent and it was amusing to see her fiancée so flustered.

Pete arrived just as Helena was throwing the now happy eight year old’s bag in the boot of her car. There was a brief exchange of pleasantries before the harassed looking inventor bid them both farewell and pulled carefully away from the house.

“I love watching your kid boss HG around.” Pete laughed as he closed the door on the icy world outside. He huffed as an elbow predictably nudged his ribs. “Oof! What’d I say?”

“She doesn’t boss Helena around,” Myka insisted.

Agent Lattimer glanced out of the front window as they passed through the living room. “What’s got the great inventor’s panties all bunched up then?”

They settled on the sofa and Agent Bering picked up her decaf coffee to finish it before it got too cold. She handed Pete the files and notes she’d been working on to help with his investigation.

It irritated her now that she could no longer work in the field with her best friend and big brother. If asked, she would never have acknowledged her satisfaction while working with the childish and gluttonous agent. He was precisely the sort of immature, incorrigible flirt that she’d detested early in her career but now there were few others she would want watching her back.

As she observed his eyes bulging at the extent of her research, she considered the question. “Today’s the first day Christina will be left without either of us or you guys around. Helena is struggling, as you can probably imagine.”

Pete paused and glanced at his friend with sudden understanding. “Riiight. I’m kinda surprised that you’re slummin’ it here with me. Isn’t this the sort of big deal that you should be with her for?”

Myka slumped slightly, waited a beat, and then nodded. “We discussed it. She wanted to go it alone. Said they were her demons to face.” They had fought over the decision and the American still didn’t like it, but she had reluctantly agreed to stay at home on this occasion. “If it’ll make her feel better about herself, then I’ll deal with not being there.”

“She looked like she was going to go BOOM with all the tension,” Pete observed. Eager to avoid the pile of work that sat before him, and always wanting to tease his partner, a mischievous smile crept over his features. “You know, there are other ways you could’ve helped her out with that.” Myka glared at him in warning, knowing instinctively where his thoughts would be. “I’m just saying; if it’s an option, use it. It’s only logical, Mykes.”

Blushing at the implication now, Myka thought back to just half an hour ago, when her hand had been creeping ever so slowly into her lover’s underwear, intent on doing just as Pete suggested. “Well, it wasn’t for a lack of trying, but Christina was eager to leave and wanted to make sure Helena was getting ready.”

“Ooh!” Pete grinned and waved his hands around in a series of moves that Myka assumed was some sort of guy code. “Cock-blocked by an eight-year-old... Ouch! Stop hitting me!” His taunting turned into a whine, making the curly-haired brunette smile with satisfaction.

* * * * *

Sitting in the front of a cafe, just across the street from the dance and drama studio, Helena gaze out of the window, sipping a passable cup of tea. Her gaze fixed on the entrance to the building, hawk-like as she scrutinised anyone entering, walking passed or even glancing vaguely in that general direction.

This was why she had been adamant that her fiancée not accompany her; she didn’t want Myka to see her like this, cold and calculating and very reminiscent of a period in their lives that she wasn’t proud of. She had to slip into this role, this almost monster who plotted and schemed to meet her own ends. Fear at the back of her mind threatened to break through the weak barrier of confidence that she’d managed to conjure from somewhere. The only method of control she had was to recall with clarity the fate Christina’s murderers met at her hands. Their screams still rang through her nightmares on occasion, waking her in a cold sweat. Usually, she deplored this unfortunate memory, but today it was useful in keeping her focussed.

Forty slow, agonising minutes passed, HG’s mind undeviating but slowly relaxing from its rigid, murderous intent. Shame began to slide slowly into her thoughts, replacing her confidence, but also serving to tame some of the fear and anger that simmered in the depths.

The last dregs of her second cup of tea had turned cold, and while she continued to watch the building across the street, outside thoughts began to settle in. A sudden pang pulled at her stomach; Myka should be there with her. They were partners. Christina was as much the American’s daughter as she was Helena’s and she’d been denied the opportunity to accompany them on this huge step in their lives.

She ran her fingers through her hair. _Darling, how on Earth do you put up with me?_ As she vowed to make it up to her lover and began to devise plans for them, a shadow hovered over her table, forcing her to look up to find the source.

Standing stiffly in kitten-heals, a pencil skirt and pastel cardigan, a prim looking woman stared down at the inventor. Adopting an expression of polite interest, HG smoothly hid her annoyance. “May I help you?”

“Silvia Alcott, Chair of the PTA for the School of Drama and Dance,” she held out a perfectly manicured hand and grasped the inventor’s offered appendage in a firm grip before quickly letting go. Without being asked, she lowered herself into the opposite seat and levelled a penetrating stare at the Brit. She folded her hands in front of her, sitting ramrod straight. “I would like to know why you are staring at the school and to warn you that any harmful action against pupils, staff or property will be dealt with to the full extent of the law.”

For a moment, Helena sat, astonished and awed at the woman’s aggression and audacity, and then, surprising them both, burst into relieved laughter. “My dear, thank you,” she wiped at a tear that was making its way over the lip of her eyelid and smiled at her companion.

From the look of Silvia, Helena’s first impression was of another well-to-do housewife with nothing better to do with her time than busy herself with other people’s affairs. These were the sort of women who she’d grown up being told she must emulate. Her mother had been one. They were the sort of women who made it their mission in life to convince everyone else that they were inferior if they didn’t conform to convention. She had been ready to rebuff Ms. Alcott with many well-placed sentiments of dismissal, but as she looked closer, HG realised that her own prejudices had coloured her initial caution.

“I believe you may have just restored some of my faith in humanity.” The Victorian’s smile softened and she watched as the woman’s body relaxed slightly. HG held out her own hand this time. It seemed silly to go through this formality again, but the previous handshake had been nothing more than a power play and she wanted to even the field with a friendlier gesture. “Helena Wells,” she introduced herself smoothly and then smiled with a little mischief as she added, “Mother of one of those pupils you mentioned.”

Silvia glanced behind her and HG followed her gaze, eventually lighting upon a table of similarly cautious faces. Was the entire PTA there, or did they, like her, find this cafe out of convenience and decide to wait here for their children to finish their class?

That same firm tone broke through the inventor’s musings as Ms Alcott continued her interrogation. “I haven’t seen you around here before.” She commented, her gaze still cautious though not as concerned. “Have you come far? You’re English aren’t you?”

Glancing at her watch, Helena checked that there was enough time for her to indulge this woman’s curiosity. She had ten minutes. It was enough if they were concise. “It’s my daughter’s first lesson today. We live a short drive away and as I can hardly hide the accent, I suppose it does no harm to admit that yes, I am English. I am not accustomed to sharing more of myself with strangers than that though.” She paused, her expression firm but not unfriendly. “I apologise if I appeared threatening earlier. I worry for my daughter’s safety. It is a relief to know that another is looking out for her, so thank you.”

“We take the safety of the staff and pupils very seriously, Mrs. Wells...”

“Miss.” Helena interrupted, her expression not giving anything else away as she waited to see what reaction she would get.

“Er, Miss. Wells.” Pale blue eyes studied the inventor for a moment. “Being a single parent can be difficult,” she commented diplomatically.

HG quirked a small smile. “I didn’t say that I was single. In fact I am very much attached. I am not however, married.” She wanted to say that she and her fiancée were deeply in love and to shout from the rooftops that she was engaged to be married to the most wonderful woman in existence, but it was none of Ms. Alcott’s business and habit prevented her from giving away too many personal details.

“Of course.” Silvia seemed to shake off whatever opinion she had of the Brit’s relationship status and continued in a business like manner. “Well, as I said, safety is important to us on the PTA. We welcome all parents to join. We have strong ties with the local schools too. Does your daughter attend nearby?”

“She is home schooled.” Helena admitted. She was surprised to realise that she was seriously considering this stranger’s suggestion. Joining the PTA would give her a lot more insight into the school and its people. “It’s not easy to find suitable places for her to socialise with others her age though. We considered many places and she chose this one.” She checked her watch again and seeing that time had run out, rose smoothly from her seat and began to pull her long, dark grey coat over her outfit. “You can walk me across the road and introduce me to some of the other members of your group.” She inclined her head towards the group of what she assumed were parents. “If my daughter desires to continue her attendance, I would be most interested to join you.”

The Chair of the PTA scrambled a little in her effort to stand and follow the instruction, not stopping to wonder why this raven haired Brit was dictating her actions.

They reached the classroom just as the children were being dismissed and Helena’s previously serious expression melted in the light and warmth of her daughter’s radiant smile.

“Mummy!” Christina threw herself into her mother’s arms and squeezed her tightly. The moment she let go, her mouth didn’t stop moving, words tumbling out in an effort to explain everything that had happened in class. “... and then everyone had to choose a partner to practise with, but as there was an odd number of children, I worked with two others, as a three. There’s Britney with her father,” she pointed over at a young brunette with big blue eyes and a confident smile, who appeared as if she was also retelling the events of the last hour to her own parent. “And over there is Ebony, with her mummy.” As her name suggested, Ebony had jet black hair, that by comparison made Christina’s hair seem more on the brown spectrum, and wore a bright red bow at the top of her long plait so that it wasn’t possible to overlook her presence.

“I take it you enjoyed yourself then, Love?” Helena chuckled at her little girl’s enthusiasm as she knelt to help her button up her coat and regretted again that Myka wasn’t there with them.

Christina’s head bounced up and down rapidly. “Oh yes, Mummy! We will come back next week, won’t we?”

Kissing her forehead, HG nodded. “As long as you enjoy it, we will return every week,” she agreed, triggering an exuberant cheer from the eight year old.

* * * * *

Running a frustrated hand through her hair, Myka closed her laptop and set it aside. She and Pete had been searching for anomalies and links in their research for over an hour and so far, nothing had given them any clue to what this artefact was that made people disappear, or who had it.

She removed her glasses and rubbed thumb and forefinger against the bridge of her nose. “It’s no good, Pete. There isn’t enough to go on here.” She let her head relax against the back of the couch. “Tell me about LA again,” she instructed, looking tiredly at her friend as she waited for him to start.

“Why, Mykes? You already know it all. You’ve got a photographic memory, remember?” He grinned at his own joke then relented when Agent Bering rolled her eyes. “Alright, alright... We searched through the studio, where the last security guard went missing from the inventory, no sign of any tampering and no evidence of anything weird happening.”

“No vibes?” Myka probed, not for the first time. Her gut told her that there was more.

Pete shook his head slowly. “No...”

Eyes that had gradually closed in thought shot open. “Are you sure?”

Sighing, Agent Lattimer shoved his files on the table and grunted to himself. “Not exactly... I think I might have had a vibe, but it wasn’t clear. It wasn’t good or bad. I have no idea, Mykes. I didn’t think it was worth mentioning that I really don’t have a clue what it’s about.”

Myka frowned. Pete was clearly annoyed with his inability to lock down his sixth sense but something told her that whatever it was, it was the key to their hunt. “I should have been there,” she commented at length. “We’re a team, we would have had this in the bag by now if Artie had let me go with you.” She was frustrated and irritated by the lack of progress. She trusted that Pete and Steve had done a thorough job, but couldn’t find the confidence she wanted in herself since she hadn’t been a part of the actual investigation.

“Myka, you will help us figure this out. I know you will.” He turned to face her, definitely feeling the vibes coming from his partner. “I know you hate leaving all the investigative work to other people; you like to be in the middle of the action and you’re not happy with being benched, but you have this amazing thing happening to you right now and I know you don’t want to mess that up.”

Her expression was thoughtful as she considered Pete’s words and contemplated this sudden need she felt to become more involved in their field work. Artie would be hard a hard nut to crack but he wanted this investigation solved as much as any of them. If she could only convince him that she would be nothing more than a consultant while she accompanied Pete back to LA...

Of course then there was Helena. _She at least has to see that I’m needed out there._ Her inner voice whispered convincingly. _I wouldn’t be doing any of the running around; I’d just be getting a firsthand look at the evidence._

Pete didn’t like the thoughtful expression on Myka’s face. She was always the level-headed one, always doing the right thing, the sensible thing. That expression spoke of recklessness and determination. “Artie’s going to wait for another ping before we do anything else, so we really don’t have to worry about it too much. He’s waiting for our new recruits to arrive,” he added cautiously, watching for any change in his friend’s demeanour. “You fancy taking a trip to the Warehouse to see the look on their faces when they start their orientation? Claude and I were going to try and get one of them all worked up so we could goo them with the hose. You want in?” He suggested though he knew that she was far too sensible to stoop to that level, she would be amused from afar.

A small smile played at the corner of the brunette agent’s mouth, her plans unforgotten, but in light of Pete’s obvious unease, she allowed the change of subject. “I want to be here when Helena and Christina get home, but thanks. I’ll see them at the bed and breakfast before the week is out. Artie wants me to lecture them on the Warehouse rules. Apparently, since I’m the only one who’s read the manual and, apart from Steve, I’m the most mature member of the team, that pleasure falls to me.”

She sent the bulky man-child a playful glare before returning her attention to the files and beginning to tidy away. Their short session could have been considered a complete waste of time, but with all of these new thoughts racing around her brain, Myka was somewhat satisfied with the past hour. The more she thought about it, the more feasible it seemed that she could pull this off and feel useful again.

* * * * *

Having heard the car pull up onto the drive, Myka was waiting in the entrance hall the moment the front door opened and held both arms out for Christina to run into them. After almost being bowled over, the agent looked into bright, exuberant eyes and knew that this was going to be a regular thing from now on.

“I take it you enjoyed yourself?” the American asked with a chuckle.

“It was wonderful!” Christina retold her story as Helena finally entered, closed and locked the door, and moved to hang her coat up. “Our teacher, Mr. Vaughn, taught us some dance steps and gave us each a CD so we could practise at home.”

“So we don’t have to worry if it sounds like there’s a herd of elephants parading around your room,” Helena quipped, teasing the eight year old, who imitated her Mama by sticking her tongue out at her mother. HG laughed and placed a kiss on top of the girl’s head. “Why don’t you take the bags you left for _me_ to carry out of the car and put them away in your room? After which, you can demonstrate a few of those dance steps.”

Excited by the opportunity to show off what she’d learned, Christina hurried up the stairs and sped out of sight. Alone now, Myka turned to her lover and looked her over, expecting to see some change in her, but whether good or bad, she didn’t know.

“How was it?” The brunette asked at last, wondering at the guilt that seemed to hang in the inventor’s expression.

“Well,” Helena settled her hands on Myka’s waist. “Other than being accosted by the parent-teacher association, it was dandy... until I realised how selfish and imbecilic I had been to insist that you not accompany me.” She looked deep into green eyes and saw unconditional understanding there. “I’m sorry, Myka. You wanted to be there. Should have been there, and I took that away from you.”

Movement from upstairs drew closer and the American’s gaze shifted rapidly between her lover and the first floor. “We’ll talk about it more later, Helena, but I’m not really mad, I just... I get why you wanted to go it alone, so don’t worry about it too much. I’ll be there next time.” She drew the Brit in and kissed her gently, siphoning all the comfort she needed after her day with Pete, and hopefully giving back the reassurance HG needed.

Hurried footsteps descended the stairs and both adults followed the excited girl into the living room. Hand in hand, they congregated on the smaller of the two couches and positioned themselves attentively. After much twirling around and a particularised lecture on the right and wrong way to turn your head when performing the steps, Christina finally felt satisfied that she’d described her day in enough detail and left her parents alone in the living room.

“I have a feeling that we’re going to have to get used to this weekly re-enactment,” Myka commented as she and Helena wandered into the kitchen a few minutes later. She began to root around in one of the cupboards, looking for something to snack on while her partner automatically reached for the kettle. At last, her searching hand lighted on a box of pretzels and she pulled them down. “We’re going to have to pay attention to the terminology if we want her to think we’re interested.”

Frowning at her lover’s choice of food, Helena opened the fridge and began to cobble together something more nutritious. “I am interested,” the inventor insisted as she gently prised the box of processed carbohydrates from the American’s hands and replaced it with her own concoction of what she considered ‘real’ food. She kissed the pout that appeared and raised an eyebrow as if to dare Myka to challenge her.

They were almost out of cheese twists as she’d ‘accidentally’ let it slip to Pete that they had more than enough boxes to satisfy his appetite, and after much negotiating, she and Myka had agreed to ration the amount of ‘empty calories’ that they consumed. It wasn’t something the American disagreed with in principal; her diet pre-Warehouse (i.e. pre-Pete) had been stricter than this, but her hormones dictated much of her impulses these days and it wasn’t without the occasional tantrum that she conceded to Helena’s direction regarding food.

Myka was inwardly grateful for the external control as she struggled to tell herself no when the mood struck, but that didn’t mean she always liked the restrictions.

“Really? You’re interested in how long to pose between sets or how many heel lifts are in each bar?” Myka’s eyes shone with mischief, knowing that the intricacies of their daughter’s interests were not nearly as important as the simple fact that Christina enjoyed it so they would continue to be dutifully attentive.

Helena had voiced her disappointment on occasion that their daughter wasn’t more interested in pursuing science and engineering, but she was careful not to let Christina know this. No matter what, she was proud of the eight-year-old and wanted her to be happy with whatever she chose to do.

“Well, no, not so much. Like you though, I adore the way her eyes light up at the mere mention of performing, even if I don’t think much to the topic itself. Honestly, I always knew that her interests would turn her more toward the stage. I’m only grateful that modern opinions don’t immediately associate a female performer with a woman of ill repute.” She lifted her teabag from her cup and drained it in the sink before adding a splash of milk to her beverage. She took a seat at the breakfast bar, opposite the brunette, and held her gaze as she sipped her tea. “As long as you’re both happy, I’m happy. I could never have imagined any of this.” She gestured vaguely to the space around them but Myka knew that she wasn’t really talking about their house.

Reaching across the polished wooden surface, Myka took Helena’s hands in her own. “We’re both very fortunate,” she agreed.

 


	4. Chapter 4

 “It’s a boy!”

Head rising from its place of intense study, HG Wells found her eyebrows pulling together in a deep frown. Next to her, another pair of eyes unfocussed from their task and peered across the room to where the American Warehouse agent lay in a state of barely contained excitement. Dark gazes met one another in confusion and two sets of shoulders shrugged.

“Love, we may need some context over here,” Helena called to her fiancé.

Myka rolled her eyes and jumped up from the chaise longue, phone in her hand as she gently pulled the enormous book from Christina and Helena’s laps and squeezed in between them. “Tracy’s baby,” she told them with enthusiasm. “Kevin just sent me this photo.” She turned her phone on its side and the three of them moved closer to see. “I’m an aunt,” Myka whispered reverently as she gazed at the picture. “I have a nephew.”

HG glanced at the digital photo long enough to see that the newest addition to their extended family appeared to be healthy and whole, before her eyes drifted automatically to gaze at her lover’s awed expression. She watched as her favourite shade of green glassed over with emotion and then those eyes were on her, no words spoken as they communicated their excitement and nervous anticipation for their own little bundle of joy.

Myka captured Helena’s lips with her own and whispered an ‘I love you’ as she placed her head on a supplicating shoulder, softly sighing her contentment.

“Where do babies come from?” Christina’s inquisitive mind enquired, startling both of her parents out of their moment of reflection. “I mean, I know they’re carried in the mother’s womb, unless you’re a sea-horse, and that they have to be pushed out of the birth canal, which can be distressing for the mother, but...”

“How does a baby get into the womb in the first place?” Myka finished what she imagined the young girl was trying to ask. She sat up again, though reached for her lover’s hand to retain that physical connection, a familiar tingle running along her arm where her ring met the raven-haired inventor’s skin.

“Yes,” the eight-year-old confirmed. “How, Mama?” Christina watched her mothers share one of their _looks_ and waited patiently for them to come to a decision. This look said something along the lines of, ‘Is now a good time?’

With a subtle smile and inclination of her head, the brunette agreed that it was finally time to discuss the expected new addition to their household. With Christmas well and truly over now, Myka knew she was running out of excuses and that it was unfair on their daughter to keep the news from her for much longer. Here was the perfect opportunity; the conversation they needed to have of a silver platter. She pushed any trepidation away and stole herself for Christina’s reaction.

The adults shared another look, with Helena inclining her head to say that she would begin to explain this age-old question.

“Christina, you remember the schooling we worked through recently, learning about plant reproduction?” the Victorian began in her ‘teaching tone’ of voice.

“Of course, Mummy,” the child responded, barely resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

“Then you will recall that the male and female parts of the plant must... exchange information in order to fertilise the seeds that will form a new plant,” she phrased this as a statement rather than a question and smiled when her daughter nodded confidently. “Well, love; there are some similarities with animal reproduction; a male and a female are required to make a baby.”

Frowning, the young girl turned to face her parents face-on. “So aunt Tracy and uncle Kevin had to exchange information to fertilise a seed?” Her disbelieving tone made Myka smile and she looked to her lover to see where she was going to go with this.

“After a fashion,” HG replied. “Half of the... blueprint for a baby comes from the male and half from the female. This fertilised egg then grows inside the female. In the case of mammals anyhow.” She was finding this discussion more difficult than she’d expected. As a scientist, she detested explanations such as the stork and the cabbage patch, but it wasn’t easy to be informative and vague at the same time.

“Mummy,” Christina began with forced patience. “You still have not told me _how_ it gets inside the female’s womb.” She sat back on her haunches and seemed to despair for a moment over the adults’ reticence. “Addy said that grown-ups kiss and take their clothes off when they make a baby, but I don’t see how that would help. Does the fertilised egg have to go in your belly-button? I hardly think you could swallow it.”

Covering a sudden bout of giggles with a cough, Myka glanced away from HG’s death glare. Her fiancé was making every effort not to belittle their daughter’s intelligence and it was as adorable as it was painful to watch.

Hating the feeling that she was failing at this very important and delicate task, the inventor straightened and took a breath. She reached out for her daughter and pulled the young girl onto her lap. “Christina, you are a very intelligent young lady and all of this will make sense to you some day. You are much too young to know all the details though. For now, it’s enough for you to know that, without scientific interference, babies are made from one part female and one part male.”

Almost identical chocolate eyes fixed on one another until the younger of the two relented and decided that her mother was being entirely honest with her. With this limited understanding, her posture deflated a little. “Does that mean you and Mama can’t make a baby together?”

Exchanging surprised glances, the two women found themselves smiling automatically. Myka could barely contain her increasing hope that this conversation would have a positive outcome.

“Would you like that, my love?” Helena stroked a lock of wavy hair behind an ear and studied her daughter’s expression. “Would you like a brother or sister?”

Appearing to think about it, the child eventually nodded. “I’d like a sister. Even if she wouldn’t be old enough to play with for a long time.” She snuggled into her mother and tilted her head back to look up at her. “Are there other ways to have a baby then?”

“Doctors can help with the use of modern medicine and technology, and there is the option of adopting. Ordinary couples who can’t or don’t want to become pregnant could choose to do these things.” Her smile became a smirk. “We are not entirely ordinary though.”

“What I think your mother is trying to say, in her usual roundabout way is that, we have more options at our disposal. The Warehouse is a place of endless wonder and doesn’t always abide by the rules of nature.” Myka kept her tone serious as she continued. “While we must never use artefacts for personal gain and as much as possible we try to be careful with them, sometimes accidents happen.” Tilting her head to one side, she thought carefully about her words. “Do you remember that day I came home early and Mummy sent you to Leena’s? You made cookies with her?”

Christina inclined her head slowly, her thoughts drifting back to that day and the concern she’d felt for her Mama. “I remember. You were feeling unwell.”

“Not unwell really,” Myka clarified. “But I was under the influence of a powerful artefact and needed your mother’s help to stop it.”

“Is this about babies?” the eight year old enquired with slight exasperation in her tone, needing to get to the point. Why did adults insist on complicating everything?

Chuckling, Helena kissed the side of the girl’s head and squeezed her lover’s hand as she watched a blush creep along the other agent’s neck. “My love, your Mama and I made a baby that day.”

“Really!?” Christina cried, excitement mounting. “Where is it?” She looked between the two adults, her head twisting a little as she searched for signs of this miniature person.

Myka laughed at the enthusiasm in the girl’s tone, her amusement heightened by the relief she felt. She placed a hand over her belly and nodded towards it. “In here,” she said gently.

Head cocking to one side again, the boisterous youngster frowned in thought. “How did it get in there?”

“And now I believe we’ve come full circle.” Helena exclaimed as both adults began to laugh in earnest.

Even as she continued to consider the mystery of making a baby, Christina smiled at the utter joy radiating from her parents. At some point, it would begin to dawn on her that, if babies were made between a woman and a man, then somewhere there was a man, who had helped Mummy make her, but that moment in time was far from now and there were more exciting things to consider. Like...

“Do you think it will be a boy or a girl? What shall we name it? When will it arrive?”

Placing her arms around the eight year old, who had wriggled between her and HG, the American relaxed. “We have an appointment at the antenatal clinic next week. We should be able to bring a picture home for you.” At the girl’s frown, Myka went on to elaborate about how modern technology would allow them to ‘see’ the baby using sonar, like a dolphin uses echo-location. Then she had to explain echo-location, and from that, the use of similar communication between submarines, which somehow led them on to whales, mating calls and eventually, back to babies. The girl’s thirst for knowledge was unquenchable at times.

Helena was returning from having made herself and Myka a cup of tea when Christina began to pursue another line of questioning. It had been a long afternoon and the inventor was feeling the strain of the last two hours, so she knew that Myka had to be in need of a rest. “Christina, I think that’s enough questions for today. We’re happy to answer any queries you have, but even we have our limits, love. Save some for tomorrow and the next day; you have plenty of time to figure everything out before she or he gets here.”

Pouting slightly, the young Brit swallowed her next inquiry and slipped off the sofa. “Well, may I bring the laptop in to read about babies on the Internet?”

Helena frowned and immediately sought out Myka’s opinion. “Would it be safe?”

“Claudia programmed in some of the best filters, but I don’t know. One of us should really sit with her if she’s online.” The brunette shot her daughter an apologetic look, but on this point, she wasn’t about to relent. “Sweetheart, the Internet is an amazing tool, but we really can’t let you play about on it on your own. Why don’t we all take a trip out to the city tomorrow and we’ll find a few books on the subject?”

The moment Myka posed this question, the child’s pout shrank and a smile took its place. “I like driving to the city. May we stop at the Children’s Museum on the way home?”

Helena nodded slowly, “So long as we don’t spend too long shopping for books, we will. It might be a good idea to eat out tomorrow,” she added to her fiancé. “I doubt either of us will want to cook by the time we return home.”

“Aces!” Christina flitted over to hug her mother exuberantly, and then turned to treat her Mama to the same affection. With that, she flew out of the room, shouting behind her that she ‘couldn’t wait until tomorrow’.

Flopping beside her partner, Helena blew out a relieved gust of air and smiled lovingly at the American. “You know, my mother would despair at her running around the house like that, shouting at the top of her lungs. Not proper lady-like behaviour at all. We should be ashamed of ourselves for raising such a hooligan.”

“And asking so many questions? Why would a girl need to know so much about the world?” Myka added in a similarly astonished tone, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth as she leant into the hand that stroked along her hairline.

“Precisely. A woman should know her place,” HG added with a roll of her eyes.

“So, what is my place?” Green eyes shone with tired mischief, regarding the inventor expectantly.

Kissing her fiancée softly, Helena brought her knees up onto the sofa and snuggled closer to the brunette. “As my wife to be, I expect you to bare my children and allow me to love you and take care of you.”

“I suppose I could do that. It doesn’t sound too bad.” Even through her fatigue, Myka felt her desire for her lover’s touch kindling; the soft, teasing exploration of HG’s fingers on her arm igniting the passion that forever lay just beneath the surface. “And what would your place be?”

Adopting an innocent expression, the Victorian responded, “I am your willing slave, my darling. Your desires and wishes are mine to fulfil.”

Though appreciating the sentiment, there was slightly too much truth behind the playful comments for Myka’s liking. “That seems a little one-sided. What of your desires and wishes?”

“You have already given me all I could ever hope for.” The inventor informed her lover in earnest.

Tutting at the expression of martyrdom in the Brit’s tone, Myka caught her partner’s gaze and kept it with a firm but gentle hand on her chin. “You have done the same for me, Helena. Don’t belittle your contribution to my happiness. You’ve given me as much as I’ve given you, and while I know that the mildly chauvinistic comments were said as a joke, sometimes I think you really do believe that I’m better than you.”

“Darling, you can’t tell me that you haven’t had similar thoughts in reverse,” HG rebuked the attempt to make her see her lover as an equal. Myka belonged on that pedestal; she was a goddess in human form and the inventor was damned if she would see her any other way.

“Perhaps I do... sometimes. You help me feel more confident though. I have doubts, but I’m a better person because you’re with me.” She paused to let this thought sink in to that stubborn and oh so sharp mind. Seeing the thoughts slipping across those dark eyes, she continued. “You did that. Just by loving me, you did that. Now allow me to do the same for you.”

“Very well,” she relented in mock exasperation. “I give you leave to experiment with my self-worth, though I’m afraid that you’ll be fighting a losing battle if you think I’ll ever see you as anything less than a deity in human form and me as your most devout worshiper.”

“It’s not your ego I intend to nurture, Helena.” Myka added in warning. “Just the part of you that believes that you are not worthy of being with me; of living this life with me. The part that doesn’t believe you deserve my love.” A hand caressing gently the features she so adored, the brunette gazed over her partner with her own expression of devotion. “We are endless, Helena. For eternity. You are my soul’s counterpoint and I need you to believe that you deserve to be here with me.”

HG leant into the hand that continued its idle exploration of her face and closed her eyes. It was still a mystery sometimes, how one person could know her better than she knew herself. She thought she’d kept those doubts so well hidden, yet now it seemed that Myka had known all along. Much as she would never voluntarily give up this life, she considered herself extraordinarily lucky to have landed this incredible woman and occasionally wondered when the other shoe was going to drop. Could Myka convince her that she deserved this life? She doubted it, but she would do her best to let the beautiful American try.

In answer to her lover’s romantic words, the inventor drew her into a series of long, tender kisses that left them both breathless when they eventually parted. Foreheads resting together, Helena breathed in Myka’s subtle scent. “Would you like me to run you a bath, darling?”

Myka’s eyes searched her finance’s for any sign of deflection but found none. There were simply no more words to say on the subject. Only time could heal the fractures in the Brit’s soul. “My back would really like that,” she responded with a wry smile. “Were you thinking of joining me for a soak?”

“That sounds like heaven, but I promised Artie that I would have answers for him on this latest artefact trouble by morning. I was thinking I might have to burn the midnight oil for this one; it’s proving to be rather elusive.” Watching a steely glint form behind forest green eyes, HG knew that her lover was about to fight to get her own way. She smiled internally; Myka was doubly alluring when she decided that she was taking control.

“Artie and the Warehouse will have to wait,” the temporarily off-assignment agent declared. She knew that her partner had been tasked with finding out more about the history of artefacts coming out of Hollywood to try to narrow down their search, but was certain that her own plans would erase the need for all of Helena’s digging. “You have to rest too; this afternoon was hard on both of us and you need some downtime.” Rising from her comfy seat, Myka stretched, smirking at the way Helena’s eyes automatically caressed her body, and then reached out to pull the Victorian up with her. “We will share a bath, put Christina to bed and then the two of us will tackle the research. If it’s not done by morning, Artie will just have to suck-it-up and get his new agents working harder to figure it out. We have a date to go shopping.”

“Do you think he’ll accept that excuse?” HG followed as her lover moved backward towards the stairs, pulling her along. She really didn’t care much what Artie thought; his blustering could be quite amusing sometimes, which was why she took so much care over provoking him. Myka usually did care though and Helena decided to enjoy this more carefree attitude while it lasted.

They reached the bathroom and the taller agent slowly backed her partner into the frame of the door as she moved in for another protracted meeting of lips. “Probably not,” she whispered, her steely gaze morphing into something more predatory. “But he’s been working you far too hard lately and it’s time he realised who’s in charge here.”

One eyebrow rising sharply, HG leaned back to study her partner’s face with more clarity. “Oh? And who might that be?”

Still grinning, Myka pulled away and wandered toward the en-suite. “Christina, of course.”

Helena followed, chuckling at the American’s playfulness. Having their daughter’s approval and acceptance of their growing family had brought the brunette out of the shallow funk she’d been in the past few weeks. Most had attributed the increased irritability to her pregnancy hormones, but Helena knew better. Her wife-to-be was tough when it came to most people’s opinions and attitudes towards her. When she mentioned her parents, it was with pity rather than anger or sadness that she talked about them. The person who’s opinion Myka valued most, even above her lover’s, was the small, raven-haired girl, who’d stolen her heart.

With interest, the inventor observed as Myka put the plug in the bath and turned the hot tap on. She let her gaze travel over her lover’s form, feeling familiar stirrings at the sight of that pert behind raised aloft. “I thought it was understood that I would be pampering you,” she commented, her voice rising above the gush of water into the spacious tub.

Glancing over her shoulder, the brunette looked her lover up and down. A smug smile tugged at her mouth as she noticed the appreciation in those dark eyes. As she rose from her bowed position, Myka made a show of stretching, a hand on the small of her back and one settled over where her bump had yet to show. “You’re going to indulge me,” she corrected, her expression daring Helena to protest.

The inventor licked her lips and glanced briefly out towards the landing, checking for curious eyes and ears. “You’re trying to seduce me, Miss. Bering.”

Since pretending to be Santa for Helena on Christmas Eve, and another incident in the study a few weeks later, the once vanilla agent had developed a lot more confidence in their sexual exploits.

“I’m not trying,” Myka put her fiancé right again while she lifted a hand to begin unbuttoning her shirt, smirking as HG swallowed hard. “I’m succeeding.”

Helena didn’t even bother searching for the words to argue, she knew her state of arousal must be obvious to her partner. Reaching out, she located the brunette’s bottom button and began to assist, their hands meeting half way, fingers touching and exploring as if there was all the time in the world.

Myka’s hands eventually captured her lover’s and placed them on her waist, looking deep into chocolate orbs as she then moved them slowly along her skin until they were cradling her ribs. She allowed herself to be studied, watching Helena’s lazy gaze caress her bra-clad breasts and felt a corresponding ache begin deep inside. Gasping, as conveniently situated thumbs brushed gently across her over-sensitive swellings, she gave in to the urge to feel the inventor’s mouth on her own and pushed her partner up against the doorframe once more.

Feeling the brunette’s exigency, HG allowed her left leg to canter forward and encouraged Myka to move against it. With one hand resting against the small of her lover’s back and the other testing the responsiveness of a pert nipple, she plundered that mouth, tasting and retreating, teasing and dancing well known steps, drawing gasps and small whimpers with every movement of hands or tongue.

Neither woman noticed the sound of a door opening across the landing, and from their position between bedroom and en-suite, neither could see the head that poked out from a bedroom. Thankfully, the long afternoon had taken its toll on the young minor too and instead of wandering to her parents’ door and knocking, Christina simply opened her mouth and yelled.

“Mummy!?”

Groaning, HG’s movements stilled, her hands returning to a slim waist to halt the distracting rocking motion. She opened her eyes to find an out-of-focus gaze observing her with confusion. As gently as she could, she pushed Myka away and inclined her head towards the door. As anticipated, an impatient voice called again, only closer this time, and the taller agent nodded her understanding, stepping away seconds before their daughter was upon them.

“Mummy?” Christina’s curious tone preceded her head round the bedroom door. She was oblivious to the heightened energy in the room and trotted in without a care. Hearing the water running, her naturally curious mind took her into the en-suite where her Mama was perched on the edge of the tub, testing the heat of the water. She glanced between the adults for a moment, trying to place their odd behaviour; they weren’t looking at each other.

Helena approached her daughter as if nothing out of the ordinary was afoot. “Yes dear?”

Christina hesitated, and then shrugged her shoulders. “May I show you something?” She took her mother’s hand without waiting for an answer and led her across the landing to her own room. Scattered on the floor lay an assortment of photographs, ordered by date, of the six months they’d been in Univille.

“What’s all this?” HG asked, chuckling at the organised chaos that reminded her so much of herself.

Kneeling amongst the selected snapshots, the girl smoothed down her skirt and smiled to herself. “I want to make something for the baby.”

Overwhelmed by the sudden bubble that filled her chest, Helena momentarily forgot about the sexy temptress running them a bath and lowered herself next to her daughter. “That’s a capital idea, love. What exactly did you have in mind with all of this?”

“Claudia said she could print more of these if I wished, so it won’t really do any harm if I cut them up, will it?”

The sincerity and concern on the mini time-traveller’s face pulled at her mother’s heartstrings and she hastened to reassure her. “You can cut them up if it’s necessary. We will print more for the album or if you make an egregious error and need extra copies.” She nuzzled her nose against dark, wavy hair and smiled at the girl’s giggle.

“Good. I want to make a mobile to hang above the crib.  I thought it would help her to get to know us quicker if she could see us even while we’re not there.” Looked up at the elder Wells, she cocked her head to one side the way she did when she was studying someone’s expression. “What do you think, Mummy?”

Forcing back unexpected tears, Helena pulled the eight year old to her again and kissed her over and over, until Christina squealed her amusement and tried to get away. Chuckling at the indignant expression, that reminded her a lot of her fiancé, the inventor finally relented and released the squirming child. “I think your sister, or brother,” she gently reminded the girl. “Will be very fortunate to have a big sister who thinks so much of their wellbeing.”

This time, Christina was the one to initiate the physical affection as she crawled into her mother’s lap and laid her head against HG’s chest. “I love you, Mummy.”

The tear that escaped then met with no resistance and fell silently into a mass of silken locks. “And I love you, my darling girl.” A dozen such moments flashed through the inventor’s mind, but no memory could come close to how she felt right then, and no words could adequately describe that feeling either. Closing her eyes, she simply absorbed the rare moment of heightened clarity, when life slowed and she could appreciate this reality.

A soft shuffle of feet on deep-pile carpet caught HG’s attention and she turned to catch a wistful expression fall into place on Myka’s features. “Here you are.” The lanky agent declared softly. “What’s all this then?” She enquired, unknowingly parroting her lover and making the Wells pair laugh.

Christina jumped up to explain her idea and Helena gently rose from the rug, turning slightly to dab surreptitiously at her eyes. Myka stepped into the room to distract the enthusiastic youngster, giving the inventor a moment of privacy. She gushed and hummed in all the right places until the child ran out of steam again.

“Sweetheart, Mummy and I are going to take a bath. Will you be happy starting this project by yourself, or do you want one of us to stay with you?” Myka glanced briefly at Helena to see if she still approved of the original plan and felt relieved when a gentle nod passed her way.

“I’m fine, Mama.” Christina was already sorting through the photos again, her attention fixed on her task.

“We’ll leave the door unlocked, just remember to knock if you want to come in,” HG made sure she had eye contact before accepting the ‘I will, Mummy’ from the distracted girl.

Making their way out of the room, hand in hand, the two agents retreated to their en-suite again and closed the door behind them. Myka had set the scene with candles and a thick layer of bubbles, but Helena couldn’t help hesitating slightly as her lover began to undress.

Anticipating this, the brunette smiled and kicked her underwear into a far corner, next to the laundry basket. “I don’t think either of us is ‘in the mood’ anymore Helena. Let’s just enjoy a relaxing soak and see where it takes us, hmm?” She kissed her fiancé’s cheek and then lowered herself into the bath, sighing as the heat and buoyancy began to soothe her tired muscles.

She needn’t have worried; Myka knew her every expression and knew when not to push. Peeling off her own clothing, she stood by the edge of the bath, looking down on the reclined woman. She noted internally that the younger agent had made a good job of the bubbles; she could see nothing beyond the beginning swell of her breasts and the occasional knee that broke the surface of the water.

One green eye opened to peer at her, and then another joined its twin. “Well? Are you getting in or is this a spectator’s sport?”

“Am I supposed to sit on you?” HG responded, hands on hips and appearing authoritative even whilst naked.

“You’re indulging me, remember?” At Helena’s raised eyebrow, Myka elaborated, “My trousers are just beginning to get tight, I’m going to have to relent and buy some new clothes tomorrow. This may be the last time, for a long time, that I get to spoon you in the bath. I know what you’re like; the moment I begin to really show, you’ll treat me with kid-gloves. I want to get my time’s worth. Now, get in before I drag you in.” The tone of her voice was playful but hard enough that HG knew she was serious.

Moments later, Helena’s hips were safely ensconced between Myka’s legs and slippery hands were winding possessively around her waist. She leant her head back and breathed in the scent of lavender. “Better?” She asked with an indulgent smirk.

Myka’s mouth hovered over her partner’s ear as she returned the expression. “Heaven,” she replied and closed her eyes once more.

It made a nice change to be content and relaxed. Thinking about the baby was a fearful double-edged sword, on one side, nervous excitement, and on the other, a fluctuating anxiety over her ability to be a fulltime mother. With the scent of the bath oils and Helena’s hair filling her senses though, it was easier to let her thoughts drift off on more pleasant ventures. She whispered sweet nothings into the closest ear and stole an occasional kiss while hands explored slick expanses of skin with tender exploration, her touch affirming their bond and calming rather than igniting any residual desire.

Anything she knew she should probably discuss with her partner was pushed aside for another day.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Locking the front door for the third time and quickly patting her pockets for reassurance, Myka hurried back to the car and hopped into the passenger side. She ignored the exasperated amusement on Helena’s face and reached for her seatbelt.

It was the weekend after their discussion with Christina about their own expected bundle of joy. Tracy had been out of the hospital for four days and though Myka protested at being a nuisance by visiting her little sister so soon after she’d given birth, the younger Bering sibling was adamant, and so the agent grudgingly accepted and now they were on their way to Wyoming.

HG managed to curb her habit of asking sarcastic questions and simply reached over to squeeze her fiancée’s hand. “It’s only two nights, darling. Your sister is looking forward to seeing you.”

“I know, Helena. It’s just habit. I can’t help feeling nervous when we get together. You remember what I was like when she and Kevin visited us?”

“Vividly,” the inventor mumbled through a mischievous smile. “I don’t think our house has ever been cleaner than it was that day.”

Myka scowled playfully and stuck her tongue out.

“Careful love, I may have use for that later.” She grinned as she focussed her attention more on the road and chuckled when the brunette slapped her arm lightly.

“Helena!” Myka scolded through her teeth, looking briefly behind to see that Christina was smiling at them with a puzzled expression. Thinking that she’d better change the subject before her partner could tease her any more, Myka glanced into the back of the car again and addressed her daughter. “Are you excited that we’re finally setting out Sweetheart?”

“Mmhm,” Christina hummed in response. “Aunt Tracy said that she had something for me. I wonder what it could be,” she gazed out of the window for a moment, contemplating the mystery and completely unaware of the surprise on her Mama’s face. “Do you know what it is Mama?”

“No,” Myka said slowly. “When did she tell you this?”

“Last night, on the telephone,” the eight year old’s voice responded distractedly.

There was quiet for several seconds while the adults exchanged puzzled glances that said neither of them knew about this and Christina continued to watch the buildings spread out as more countryside came into view.

“Do you think the baby will like my gift?” the young girl asked at length.

Myka stopped wondering if she should text her sister to ask about Christina’s present and looked back at her daughter with a fonder smile. “I’m sure your new little cousin is going to love his teddy. It’s by far the cutest stuffed rabbit I’ve ever come across.”

HG snorted in a short burst of amusement. She glanced in the rear-view mirror and her eyes met her child’s. “When you were born, there was no such thing as a teddy bear. Any stuffed animal was just that, a dead, stuffed carcass.”

“Eugh, Mummy,” Christina pulled a face form the back seat and squeezed her racoon and Myka’s bear closer.

Myka’s expression too showed her opinion of the subject and she shook her head at the amusement on her lover’s features. “Let’s be glad that we’re here in the somewhat less gross twenty-first century then.”

“It’s all subjective, darling,” Helena pointed out to the American before relenting and returning to the previous subject. “Have Tracy and Kevin decided on a name for him yet? Or will we be calling him ‘baby’ the entire weekend?”

Rolling her eyes, Myka tried not to smile. She often tried to hide her amusement when Helena was being mischievous since she was sure that encouraging the cocky inventor would have disastrous consequences. She wasn’t sure why she bothered though as her lover could read her like a book. “They’re calling him Daniel. Daniel Harvey Littlewood.” Helena made a non-committal noise, which made Myka frown. “You don’t like it? I thought it was nice,” the American commented as she observed her partner’s thoughtful expression.

“Oh, I do like it,” Helena assured her concerned lover. “I like it very much. I suppose you could say that I’m just a little miffed that the option has been taken away.” She offered Myka a shy smile, not having admitted before now that she’d been considering baby names. The sudden glassiness of the American’s eyes prompted her to reach for a slender hand again. “I have some other ideas and Daniel was far from the top. I simply imagined that you might take a shine to it.”

Myka nodded while wiping at tears with her free hand. It was a while before she could speak comfortably. “I didn’t know you’d been thinking about it,” she lowered her voice slightly. “About names.” An uncomfortable gnawing began somewhere in the region of her stomach as had happened on occasion when the reality of her pregnancy suddenly became clearer.

“Myka,” Helena’s expression softened with worry and understanding. She squeezed the brunette’s hand again. “Love, there’s still lots of time. Nothing has to be decided this moment. I didn’t want to say anything until you were ready.”

“Sorry,” Myka sniffed, smiled a little, and then chuckled through her residual tears. “Sometimes I forget how much everything is going to change.”

“Are you alright, Mama?” A small voice came from the backseat.

Myka wiped more tears away and looked back to meet a second pair of dark eyes. “I’m good Sweetheart. It’s just my hormones playing up again.”

“We could play a game,” Christina suggested, making both adults laugh.

Three games and two pit-stops later, Myka pulled up outside her sister’s two-story town house. Helena rounded the car and wrapped an arm around one of Myka’s while Christina trotted ahead of them and rang the doorbell. HG gazed longingly at her fiancée for several seconds before tempting her into a slow, sensual kiss. The sound of a door opening pulled the inventor’s mouth into a victorious smile while her partner drew away dazedly with a strong blush suffusing her features.

Tutting, Tracy hugged her niece one-handed and ushered her inside. “Honestly kid, I fear for you. Myka, don’t you two ever stop?” She grinned at her elder sibling’s embarrassment, throwing her free arm around her shoulder, and winked at her sister-in-law-to-be. “You’re allowed to come up for air you know,” she teased in a whisper. “Seriously, I never thought that _you_ would be the one to scandalise the neighbourhood.”

Myka took the teasing in good humour. Her relationship with Tracy had never been better and the fact that her younger sister, who had always gone out of her way to point out her flaws and social nothingness, was supportive of her new lifestyle, had come as a blessing. It wasn’t something she was about to take for granted. Perhaps she would be less mortified if Tracy and Helena hadn’t silently decided to begin this competition to make her blush the most, but they were getting along and that wasn’t something she ever wanted to lose either.

Shaking off her heightened emotions and her coat, Myka levelled a playful glare at her sister. “How about you stop trying to make me die of embarrassment and introduce me to my nephew?”

The youngest Bering sibling grinned at the attempt to shift the attention but refrained from commenting. Instead, she led the Bering-Wells trio into the living room, where it looked as if a baby section at a department store had thrown up on it.

“Jesus Trace; did Baby Gap die in here?!” Myka surveyed the room. She had never seen her sister’s house in person before, but she knew that it hadn’t looked anything like this a year ago. There were toys and play-mats on the floor, a changing table next to the couch, and a dozen how-to books on the never-before-used bookshelf, and those were only the objects she had names for.

Tracy rolled her eyes as she indicated for Myka to take a seat and picked Daniel up from his bouncing recliner on the floor. “You wait until you two are having another one. If you ever decide to have another one...” She let her gaze run sceptically over the two visitors. “Babies take over your life, your home, everything.”

Myka threw a questioning glance over to her lover and received a reluctant nod in return. “That doesn’t mean you have to fill your home with all this... stuff... does it?” She reached her arms out automatically and accepted the small figure that was placed into them.

Bit by bit, she leant further into the couch and drew her feet up under her. She looked down into half-open blue eyes and saw the mixed resemblance of her own families’ genes and the Littlewood’s lighter hair and eye colour. But then, didn’t babies often have lighter features?

“Myka, Myka, Myka,” Tracy smirked with a level of superiority that her older sister had thought herself glad to be rid of. “You know so much, and yet, so little.”

Rolling her eyes at the attempt to feel superior, the American agent brushed off her sister’s teasing. “It’s not a competition, Trace.” She relaxed further into Helena’s embrace and tried to make her expression non-threatening. “You’re going to be a great mom,” she declared with confidence as she looked once more upon the tiny boy in her arms. “And you’re already a great aunt.” She held her sister’s gaze and smiled warmly. “I’m glad we had the opportunity to do this; to get to know each other better.”

“Me too.” Tracy nodded her agreement. Kevin had his arm around her shoulders, mirroring HG’s position with her sister, and she knew that she’d made the right choice in supporting Myka over her parents’ prejudices. The longing on Helena’s face tugged a knowing smile from the depths of her mind and she knew that it wouldn’t be long before Myka was moving forward with her life in another giant leap.

The afternoon fled by as they all took turns to hold Daniel and coo at him through all the fussing and grunting he did in protest of being ogled at. As Christina’s bedtime came and passed, the adults found themselves alone at last. Helena expressed an interest in seeing Kevin’s plans for his company’s latest construction project, leaving the siblings to their sisterly talk.

“So, how long are you going to make me wait before you give me a good look at that rock?” The younger of the pair asked with a teasing smile.

Glancing at the ring, which felt like such a natural part of her body that she’d begun to think of it as an extension of her hand, Myka blushed. “I... forgot?”

“You are so weird!” Tracy exclaimed with exasperated fondness. “Just let me see.”

Myka relented and leant forward, extending her hand so that her sister could take it and examine her ring. “It’s a Wells’ family heirloom,” she commented in brief explanation.

Eyebrow rising in appreciation, Tracy whistled. “She just had this lying around?”

“Actually, I bought it.” Myka grinned and then at her sister’s confused look, she went on to explain how, during their summer in Boston, she’d bought the puzzle box that contained her intended’s ancestral ring.

“The absurdist things happen to you, do you know that?” She shook her head and searched for something really ‘out there’ to add. “Next you’ll be telling me that you’re pregnant.”

“Well, actually...” The agent blushed again and ducked her head.

“Get out! You’re not...?!” At Myka’s shy nod, Tracy glanced towards the hallway, almost as if she was looking for someone. “How...? No, never mind, either you have a good doctor or it’s something classified,” she commented with a smile and an eye roll. “I can’t believe this. This time last year, I honestly wondered whether you’d end up being some strange burnt out government hit woman with a cat hanging around, for posterity.” She ignored her sister’s indignant glare and continued with a grin. “Now you’re engaged and knocked up, it’s so funny!”

They chatted about Myka’s upcoming nuptials and her pregnancy, but the elder Bering sibling was eager not to steal the limelight from her sister too much and brought the conversation back round to Daniel’s adorability and Kevin’s easy going nature. Before long, their mutual chuckles died down and a calm quietness settled over the room.

Tracy reached for her tea as she reluctantly steered the conversation in another direction. “You know, I spoke with mom last week,” she confessed. She winced slightly at the taste of the tea, but persevered. She was still off the caffeine as she was trying to breast feed. So far, she hadn’t found it as intuitive as she’d imagined it would be. Weren’t women supposed to be able to just do it, without prior knowledge? Other mammals managed fine. What was wrong with her? She had voiced this frustration during the evening, after returning from feeding and putting Daniel to bed and Helena had immediately jumped in with reassurances. There was enough expressed milk for the night feeds but come morning, her sister’s partner had promised to sit with her and show her a few tried and tested tips.

“Oh?” Myka responded, noncommittally, feeling any jovial emotions fade abruptly. “About?”

Tracy rolled her eyes at her sister’s avoidance and stubbornness, though she supposed she couldn’t blame her for not wanting to hear what their mother had to say. “What do you think we talked about? I was having Braxton Hicks and they drove up just in case I went into labour. I took advantage of the fact that she couldn’t really yell at me in that condition.” She grinned behind her mug and watched a reluctant smile form on her sister’s features.

“You’ve always managed to manipulate them somehow. I doubt it had much to do with being hours away from giving birth,” Myka accused lightly. “So,” she conceded at length. “What did she have to say?”

Shrugging, Tracy shifted into a more comfortable position. “The same old rubbish, though I did manage to get across that HG’s really great and that Christina is adorable and totally my favourite niece. And that you’re happy, which is really the most important thing.” Her expression softened while Myka’s appeared conflicted. “Myka, I know I gave you a hard time when we were kids and that dad expected a lot from you...”

“Trace...” Myka placed her empty mug on the coffee table and remained sat on the edge of the couch.

Since leaving home as an adult and having to find her way in the world, certain prominent events in her life had made Tracy Bering look back on her family in a new light. It wasn’t until Myka joined the Secret Service though and tragically lost her partner/boyfriend that she began to realise how isolated her sister was. During that time, she had sat with her parents and seen the disappointment on their father’s face and for the first time felt a pang of compassion for Myka. Yes, she was crazy smart, but that only seemed to make their parents think that she should be exempt from making mistakes. It was then that Tracy began to see how smooth her life had been in comparison.

“Just, let me say this,” Tracy interrupted. “I made your life harder when people already expected a lot from you, and maybe that’s just how sisters are sometimes. But I wish sometimes that I hadn’t been jealous of how easy you found school stuff and that I’d just let you be you.”

A frown warred with the surprise and sudden fondness that Myka felt toward her younger sister. “Is that why you decided to be ok with Helena and me?”

“I’ve never really been against y’know... gays.” Tracy began slowly, struggling slightly over the awkwardness she felt with saying something that was taboo in many circles. “But I can’t say that I’ve ever understood or supported it either. I remember teasing kids at school with my friends,” she admitted with a quick, cautious glance at Myka. “I just... You’re family. My only sister and I should have been there for you before, loads of times. I made a promise to myself to have your back no matter what, so when you finally told me about HG I just went with it. I suppose I was just happy to have my sister be my sister at last.”

“Trace, that’s...” Myka laughed through an exasperated sigh. “So you.”

Laughing along, Tracy felt the slight tension in the air ease and on impulse, threw a cushion at her sister. “I know, right? Better this way round though; It’ll be nice having free childcare whenever we’re passing through South Dakota.”

“Which you do so often,” Myka responded sarcastically, returning the projectile half-heartedly. “It’s doesn’t matter why you’re on my side Trace, just that you are. It means a lot.”

The younger Bering sibling shook her head sadly. “I didn’t get it before. I do now.” She smiled towards the stairs and then looked back at Myka knowingly. “You love her. I didn’t think it could be the same, as it is with Kevin and me, I’m sorry... I get it now.”

Two pairs of approaching footsteps halted whatever Myka was going to say in response so she simply smiled and nodded her understanding. Kevin and Helena wandered into the room, both looking smug, and Myka couldn’t help the sliver of suspicion that pressed against the back of her mind; Helena was always up to something when she looked like that. She decided not to ask though; some things she was better off not knowing.

If the Brit ever did take on a bigger project, would she need Myka at home to help more with the kids? It was only fair to expect that, right? Currently, HG took responsibility for the brunt of Christina’s education and with their new addition, she would need an extra pair of hands if she was to continue with her inventions and experiments. Myka wondered how she would feel, giving up work entirely. She wasn’t sure that it appealed to her at all, but she would do it, if her family needed her to.

* * * * *

Saturday passed in a pleasant blur so that it was Sunday before anyone knew it. Four adults and Christina sat around the table, eating breakfast, while Daniel gurgled happily from a high chair that, for the time being, reclined for the newborn.

Myka chewed thoughtfully as she watched her nephew and brother-in-law. Kevin had taken over the morning feed and was now trying to divide his attention between the toast on his plate and his son. The coffee he’d made an hour ago was stone cold and had barely been touched, but he didn’t appear to know or really care.

Daniel had woken twice in the night, demanding to be fed. Myka had stirred, wincing slightly at the pitch and utter desperation that came from her nephew. Something inside pulled at her instincts and, more than once, she had an urge to rise from the warmth of her bed and Helena’s arms, and find some way to satisfy the newborn’s needs.

It was an odd sensation; a mixture of panic, urgency, helplessness and love. If she felt like this now, how would she cope with her own? It was thoughts and moments like this that made her curse Pete’s clumsiness and wish to return to a simpler time. But then her fiancée’s arms would tighten around her and she would remember the excitement they shared during moments of calm confidence and suddenly that panic receded, replaced again by joy and anticipation.

She wanted the life that lay tantalisingly on the horizon, but she still didn’t know how she was going to keep doing the job she loved. She felt like time was running out. This brought back plans to accompany Pete and Steve the next time they had a hit on their mystery artefact. Her appointment at the antenatal clinic wasn’t until Friday, so there was still time to put it all into action before then.

Once the breakfast things were cleared away, Kevin kissed his wife and son, wished his sister-in-law and her family a safe journey home and left for the construction site. Myka chuckled at the hint of envy in her fiancée’s expression and knew that the inventor was itching to try her hand at a new, bigger project, reminding her that being parents was a restriction both of their career ambitions.

Christina insisted on helping her aunt change and dress her cousin, both of her parents laughing to themselves when they heard the unmistakable sounds of revulsion from the downstairs bathroom. The eight-year-old’s face was a picture when she reappeared in the kitchen minutes later and shot Myka’s stomach a look of caution.

“When do babies learn to use the toilet?” She immediately asked her mother.

Leaving Christina and Helena to their discussion about toddlers and toileting, Myka joined her sister and helped her finish putting a new outfit on Daniel, which was just as awkward as it looked. His head flopped unexpectedly to the side if he was tilted too much one way or the other, his fingers got caught in the fabric of the sleeves, his bulbous crown seemed too large for the neckline and his indignant screams made both sisters panicky. There was a fine line between being firm and rough, they discovered, and by the time he was back in his mother’s arms, pitiful sobs finally beginning to slow, Myka was hot, exhausted and feeling more than a little bit like a failure.

Looking around at the mess they’d made, the agent ran a hand through her curls. “I was so tempted to suggest just wrapping him in blankets for a moment there,” she confessed. “How do you manage to do that when you’re alone?”

Tracy blew a lock of hair from her peripheral vision and began to tidy up one-handed. “I’ve only had to do it a couple of times so far. There’s a knack to it I think. I watched HG do it yesterday; she was so calm.” She glanced at her sister with a hint of jealousy. “You’re so lucky you’re going to have her around. Kevin’s been great, but he hasn’t got a clue what he’s doing either. Were just muddling through together.”

Breathing a little easier, Myka realised that Tracy was right; Helena had experience of bringing a child into the world and caring for her, and that was before the days of modern convenience. They would be fine; there really was no point in worrying.

As the morning wore on and lunchtime approached, Agent Bering readied their luggage and packed it in the car, in preparation for their impending departure. Tracy had ordered a simple spread from a local deli, which they placed on the coffee table so they could gather round and coo some more while Daniel lay in a cushion on the floor, watching cross-eyed as brightly coloured objects swayed above his head.

Helena looked completely in her element; sat cross-legged on the floor, one arm around the girl in her lap and the other brushing whisper-soft hair over the spot of cradle-cap on her nephew’s head.

Between snippets of conversation with her sister, Myka couldn’t help but stare at her wife to be. Tracy kept throwing her knowing looks when her attention strayed for too long, but she didn’t care, Helena and Christina were a compelling sight and one that needed to be savoured. Only when Daniel began to fuss for his own lunch was the scene broken and the adults forced to move again.

Scooping her son into her arms, Tracy turned to the inventor. “HG, would you mind showing me that thing...” she mimed something with her hand, having no name for what she wanted to say. “Again, before you have to leave?”

“Of course,” Helena responded genially as she encouraged Christina from her lap and stood up. “There’s no sense in me leaving you with only half an inkling of what to do. Practise truly does make perfect in this case.” She followed her lover’s younger sister from the room, enjoying the attention as Myka’s eyes followed her advancement to the door.

Christina joined her Mama on the couch, but the chiming of the doorbell soon cut short their interaction. Knowing that Tracy was indisposed and would be for some time, Myka rose from her seat and strolled to the front door. Her sister wasn’t expecting visitors, so it was without trepidation that she twisted the knob and pulled it open on the last two people she wanted to see.

“Mom? Dad?”

 


	6. Chapter 6

Was it fate, chance, or simply bad luck that brought Mr and Mrs Bering to Wyoming a day early? The fact that her parents looked just as uncomfortable as she felt, was little consolation to Myka. How could they be there? Why did they have to ruin what had turned out to be an enjoyable weekend with her sister and each of their small families?

Feeling ingrained insecurities tiptoeing into her consciousness, Myka’s shoulders stiffened and she knew that her expression must be stony. She had managed to convince herself that she didn’t care what these people thought of her, she had everything she needed and more, but looking at them now, their words came back to her with force and with them, so did her hurt and anger.

“What are you both doing here?” She demanded coolly.

Jeanie appeared stuck for words but her husband soon found his. “Mind your tone young lady; we didn’t raise you to speak to us like that.” He took a step forward, softening slightly as he saw his eldest daughter flinch. “We came to see Tracy. Seems like we should have rung ahead to let her know, but we’re here now so you may as well let us in.”

Hearing her father’s reasonable tone, Myka deflated somewhat. He was right; it was poor timing and uncomfortable for all of them, but there was no use crying over spilt milk. She stepped back, silently allowing them entrance, and followed them into the living room where evidence of their early afternoon meal still lay.

Christina had situated herself at one corner of the coffee table where she had successfully cleared a space for her sketchbook and was busily colouring away when the new arrivals entered. Avoiding her parents’ scrutiny, Myka knelt down next to her daughter and forced herself to speak calmly.

“Sweetheart, will you run upstairs and tell Aunt Tracy that our parents are here, please?” She really wanted to say ‘Tracy’s parents’ and deny all knowledge of being related to them but resisted; there was no need to add oil to the fire.

Christina disappeared with only a passing glance at the visitors and Myka waited until the sound of footsteps had faded before turning to face the new arrivals. A tense silence filled the room. The elder Berings had taken their seats but Myka was too stressed to sit; her legs itched to run and her hands fidgeted unstoppably.

As the lack of communication lingered, the agent finally sighed. “We’ll be leaving soon so don’t worry about us ruining your afternoon for much longer.”

“Myka, you’re being petulant,” Warren’s voice reprimanded her quietly.

_Of course, he wouldn’t want to make a scene,_ Myka thought of his attitude, and since her mother had not spoken a word since they’d come face to face again, she naturally assumed that her opinion had not changed. “I wonder why?” she spat with feeling. She sighed her frustration, keeping a tight rein on her hurt. This would be the worst time to cry. “I’ll go and put the coffee pot on,” she added shortly and left them without waiting for an answer.

Angry with herself now for letting them see passed her armour, Myka took deep breaths as she grabbed mugs from the cupboards and began to refill the coffee maker. Perhaps this was for the best. This way they had a chance to meet Helena and Christina without Myka having to persuade them to visit South Dakota and maybe there wouldn’t be enough time for them to insult her fiancée. They could see how amazing the Wells women were and perhaps begin to understand Myka’s need to be with them, even if they still didn’t approve.

“Dream on Myka,” she scoffed to herself as she switched on the percolator and leant against the counter with her eyes closed. She was so engaged in ignoring the inevitable that she didn’t hear the returning footsteps on the stairs.

Helena stopped in the hallway and deliberated her direction for a moment. Her instinct was to go to Myka and wrap her arms around the obviously distressed woman, but her gut told her to wait. Her lover’s state was a symptom and wouldn’t be alleviated until the cause was dealt with. That meant facing her future in-laws first.

Not one to shy away from a challenge, HG straightened her shoulders and marched into the living room. Her sudden appearance startled the couple, who were quietly hissing words to one another and as she held her hand before her in greeting, they automatically stood up to receive her.

“Mrs. Bering,” she shook Jeannie’s hand first, not giving her the opportunity to think better of it and then turned to her husband. “Mr. Bering,” his grip was firmer than his wife’s but not by much. She had startled them into silence and smiled as she continued to steamroll over them. “Helena Wells. Myka’s told me so much about you; it’s lovely to make your acquaintance at last. Please, sit down,” she gestured to the couch they’d been sitting on and felt another victory as they both followed her suggestion. “I expect Myka has gone to conjure some drinks for you?” She lowered herself slowly into the second two-seater and straightened out the crease in her trouser leg as she crossed one over the other, her body angled towards the visitors.

Warren cleared his throat at last. “Yes, she she’s gone to make some coffee.”

“She is such a treasure, you must be so proud of her,” she gushed. “I honestly don’t know how I survived for such a length of time before we met. Christina and I are very fortunate to be sharing our lives with her.”

“She is a lovely girl,” Warren admitted as the inventor fell silent. He seemed lost for words and searched for something to say that would satisfy the penetrating stare that was being levelled at him.

A tight voice from his right filled the gap and Helena’s attention was momentarily diverted. “I assume that Tracy is upstairs?” Jeannie asked with a hint of impatience.

“Yes,” the Brit answered, holding the older woman’s gaze and refusing to be intimidated by her attitude. “She was having difficulty feeding Daniel; he wasn’t latching on properly and, as I’m sure you know, it can be a painful experience. I had the same issue when Christina was born. My aunt was able to coach me through the worst of it though so I thought I’d pass on that wisdom. Tracy appeared to appreciate the assistance.”

“You were helping her to breastfeed?” Jeannie seemed horrified by the idea.

Helena’s gaze hardened minutely, the effect just enough to make the older woman pause. “Yes. I though it more prudent to help than to continue to let her struggle and suffer. Some women find breastfeeding a joyful experience that enables them to bond with their child. I simply helped a friend in need Mrs. Bering. Though, perhaps you think me incapable of restraining myself with any woman’s body because I happen to be in love with your eldest daughter?” Her voice dropped to a more dangerous level and she left the suggestion in the ether, making it clear that she knew the woman’s prejudice and had been ignoring it up until now.

Choosing that moment to re-enter the room, Myka unconsciously drew Helena’s attention, breaking the challenge in the inventor’s gaze. HG’s expression softened as she watched her partner serve the elder Berings and, when she had finished, reached out a hand to encourage the lanky agent to sit with her.

Myka perched on the edge of the couch, her body language in sharp contrast to the Brit’s cool confidence. She felt the warm hand in her own squeeze in reassurance and looked at Helena’s determined expression.

Fire in those eyes reminded Myka of their numerous conversations on this subject. After her disappointing visit to Colorado Springs, Helena had made it a regular habit to sneak up behind her, wrap arms around her waist, rest a head on her shoulder and tell her that she was brave, beautiful and generally amazing.

Looking at the inventor now, Myka could appreciate the role reversal they had achieved in the last month or so. HG had come a long way in learning to have confidence in them and in Christina’s place in the world. She had changed a great deal from the troubled and sometimes insane, evil genius that James McPherson de-bronzed so long ago, though some of that natural arrogance still shone through in her behaviour. Myka had a feeling that most of the Brit’s recovery was due to the pregnancy and the increasing solidity of their relationship. What had begun as almost a dream, felt more real to the inventor as time went by.

She was reminded of how huge Helena’s journey to her current state had been; she took strength from that and, as if a physical barrier had suddenly surrounded them, she felt her worries melt away. Why was she wasting her time tiptoeing around her parents’ sensibilities? Her fiancée deserved better than the lukewarm affection she was currently receiving. Helena could handle anything that the Berings threw at her so long as Myka was by her side.

HG watched the play of emotions in forest green eyes and tried to will all of her stubbornness and confidence across their bond. She rejoiced inwardly as Myka appeared to reach a decision and the brunette’s body relaxed naturally, slipping off the arm of the couch to sit flush against her side. They shared a small smile and she leant forward automatically to place a kiss to her partner’s forehead, resting there for a few seconds before pulling away to stare into eyes that were brightening with each moment that passed.

Jeannie forced her daughter’s name through clenched teeth, “Myka.” The scene in front of her was making her uncomfortable. A small part of her subconscious recognised a loosening of the tight band that sat across her chest as she witnessed true happiness on her daughter’s face, but it wasn’t enough to make her let go of her prejudices. She watched as her eldest girl curled around the foreign stranger and gradually turned her head to face her. Whatever spell had settled around the pair, it lingered around her daughter’s eyes as they met her own.

“Yes, Mom?”

The calm in Myka’s voice unnerved Jeannie Bering. Her awkward and often unsure child was looking at her as if she were miles away. “Warren,” she glanced at her husband. “Do something.”

Mr. Bering’s calmer facade showed a shrewd understanding behind his uncertainty with the situation. He witnessed the same silent communication between the two women and saw the determination in both of their demeanours. What was he to do? “The girl’s happy, Jeannie,” he finally offered his views aloud. “I’m not saying that I agree with it, but both of my girls are happy now and we can’t ask for much more than that.”

Through what had become a haze of bliss; a block to any negativity, Myka heard her father’s comment and began to focus again. What was this feeling anyhow? Where had it come from? She felt Helena’s hand in her own and looked down to see her lover’s fingers stroking her engagement ring. Was it glowing? Could everyone see that? She watched her father’s stern gaze fall on the woman she loved and for once didn’t feel the sting of trepidation.

“I know she’s pig-headed when it comes to being independent, but you understand if I want to know that you can provide for Myka,” Warren spoke firmly to the inventor. “What exactly do you do, Miss. Wells?”

“You’re asking if I work?” HG smiled. “We hardly need worry about that; my inheritance takes care of us nicely. Most of my income comes from interest in stocks, bonds and savings. I deplore being idle though, so I’m often tinkering with new inventions, and I provide research to Myka’s employers.” She turned to Myka and offered her a fond look of exasperation. “She is fiercely independent though, as you say. We’re often at odds over how contributions should be split. She would have us pay the same for everything, which seems hardly fair.” Her head swivelled back to the older couple as she continued. “We’ve tentatively settled on an equal percentage of income.”

“Which still leaves you paying more,” the brunette commented with a smile.

Purposefully ignoring the comment, the inventor continued to answer Warren’s question. “The majority of my time is spent home-schooling Christina, so it’s useful to have money making money for us,” she kept her expression as neutral as she could, but a touch of smugness still shone through.

Warren tried to appear unimpressed. “You don’t think she would benefit from a state education? A chance to interact with other children?”

“We enrolled her in a dance and drama class, and Helena takes her to the Children’s Museum. A lot of home-schooled kids meet there,” Myka insisted, beginning to feel that her father was searching for things to pick at.

“We’ve been thinking about enrolling her in mainstream education when she’s old enough to attend high-school,” the inventor stated reluctantly.

“Though we will of course assess that closer to the time,” the brunette added, hearing the hesitation in her fiancée’s voice. “Dad, we’re comfortable and between us we manage fine with Christina. We know how to take care of our daughter.”

As if summoned there by her parents’ conversation, Christina’s dainty patter on the stair caught the room’s attention and she entered to a captive audience. For a moment, she stood in the doorway, her hand holding tight to a limp bear that was vividly familiar to Mr and Mrs Bering. Her gaze passed cautiously over the older couple before landing on the pair she most wanted to see. Without hesitation, she trotted across the room and threw herself into Myka’s lap.

“Will we be leaving soon?” She asked, the moment her eyes met her mother’s.

Helena reached to pull a curl from her daughter’s face. “Have you had enough, love?”

Christina’s gaze shot to the couple who remained silence across the room, pausing for an extra few seconds on Myka’s mother. “That lady looks cross. I don’t like it; she’s frightening,” she murmured, unconsciously wiggling further into her Mama’s embrace.

Myka met her mother’s eyes and saw something other than disapproval pass over her expression. She sympathised; it wasn’t usual for children to be afraid of Jeannie Bering. “Do you know who that lady is?” She asked gently.

The eight year old nodded. “She’s your mummy?” Myka nodded too and answered in the affirmative. “She is also Daniel’s grandmother, isn’t she?” The agent nodded again. “Will she be my grandmother too?”

Eyes darting rapidly between her parents and Helena, Myka hesitated as she carefully considered her answer. “It will be up to her, Sweetheart; if she chooses to be a part of our lives. Right now, she’s not very happy with me.” She exchanged a look with her fiancée to ask if she should continue and received a subtle nod. Neither of them needed to wait for Christina to speak to hear the ‘why’ in her expression. “She doesn’t approve of my relationship with your mummy; she doesn’t think two women should live together like we do.”

“Why?” Christina’s tone was sharper now, a hint of fear on its edge. “Mama, Mummy and I love you, please don’t go away!”

Myka felt her heart drop into her stomach with those words and reached up to cradle her daughter’s face between her two palms. “Nobody is going to make me leave you or Mummy. You are _my_ little angel and nothing you do could ever make me abandon you. Do you understand?”

Sinking into the curly-haired agent, Christina began to relax. “Yes, Mama.”

Green eyes closed as Myka held the girl close and breathed in the scent of her. Helena’s hand squeezed her thigh and when she looked around the room again she saw that her mother was gone. It didn’t matter. It was unfortunate and disappointing, but not surprising.

Tracy eventually joined them downstairs, having finished feeding Daniel. She wrapped HG in a hug, spilling her thanks in torrents as she gushed about how she’d enjoyed the stress-free hour with her son. When they parted, she exchanged a meaningful look with her sister and tilted her head to the ceiling, to which Myka simply shrugged; there was nothing either of them could do about their mother.

Helena insisted on helping to clear away the debris from lunch, but soon after that, they were gathered in the hallway, bidding farewell to one another. Warren appeared in the living room doorway just as HG was reaching for the front door and offered his eldest an awkward, one-armed, hug.

“You always did like to go against the grain,” he offered in what she supposed was an apology of sorts. “You know I can’t make any promises,” he added regretfully.

“I know, Dad,” Myka whispered into his ear. She still wasn’t used to hugging him, and it was still fairly awkward, but it felt easier now for some reason.

He coughed to cover his unease and nudged her towards the door. “Very well.” His gaze fell on a pair of curious dark eyes and he was reminded very much of his eldest when she was young. “So, Miss. That’s my little girl you’ve got there you know.” He ignored Myka’s exasperated ‘Dad!’ and continued regardless. There was a twinkle in his eyes that she’d never noticed before, though the tone reminded her of her own childhood. “Can I trust you to take care of her?”

With utmost seriousness, Christina nodded. “Yes Sir.”

“Good then. I leave her in your hands.” He clapped her gently on the shoulder and nodded roughly to Helena before grunting an awkward goodbye and retreating to the kitchen, muttering something about a stiff drink.

Grinning, Tracy shot an ‘I told you so’ at her sister and they bickered fondly on their way out to the car. There were more hugs all round, though without the clumsy discomfort, and as Helena made sure that Christina was strapped in securely, the Bering siblings exchanged a few final words.

“I should have anticipated something like this,” Tracy berated herself apologetically. “It’s so like Dad to want to set out a day early and not tell anyone. He probably saw a traffic report and was worried that they’d get stuck in it Monday morning.”

“It’s fine.” Myka breathed a sigh of relief. “In some ways actually, it’s probably for the best. Mom didn’t really get a chance to find anything really vicious to say, and Dad... Well, that was very nearly friendly, for him.”

Tracy nodded and smiled in understanding. “Mom looked pretty shook up when she came upstairs. What happened?”

“Nothing much,” the agent shifted her feet, thinking about that moment she’d promised her daughter that nothing would ever come between them. “I guess she just felt overwhelmed. Dad didn’t back her up much so maybe she just gave up.”

“It seemed like more than that, but who knows, right?” The new mother hugged her sister tightly and made her promise to call often to keep her updated on the wedding plans and her progress with the baby. They agreed on a time to Skype after Myka’s first scan and then finally said their goodbyes.

The journey home was fairly quiet. Helena took the first shift in the driver’s seat to give her partner time to process while Christina hummed along to the music on her iPod (a Christmas gift from Claudia) and occasionally chatted about the scenery. They made the same two stops they’d made on their outgoing journey and, before long, they were passing familiar landmarks and pulling up onto the driveway of their own home.

Myka stubbornly refused help with carrying her bags, ignored her lover’s eye roll and immediately began unloading items that needed laundering. Christina appeared in the utility room minutes later with her own used clothes, likely at the behest of her mother, and added them to the growing pile.

Once the machine was full, Myka turned to her daughter. “Could you pass me the laundry detergent, please?”

Christina searched the shelf to her right and pulled down a likely looking item. “This one?”

“No,” the agent replied patiently while pointing higher up. “The blue one.” She watched the eight year old swap the bottles and reached out a hand as she passed the correct one over. “Thank you.”

Christina watched intently as the adult turned the knob on the machine to the desired setting, chose a temperature and started the cycle going. She was aware of the subtle change in her curly-haired mother’s emotional stability and was eager to help. “Mama?”

Hearing the concern in the girl’s voice, Myka schooled her features into something resembling calm and knelt down to her level. “Yes, Sweetheart?”

“Are you sad?” The girl asked softly.

Myka thought for a moment, searching her feelings. She tucked a wild strand of hair behind Christina’s left ear and drew a steady breath. “Do I seem sad?”

“A little,” Christina admitted. “Are you sad about your Mummy?”

“Perhaps.” Myka replied honestly. “Though mostly, I think I’m just disappointed. I think if she actually got to know you and Helena, she would like you both. I’m ok though Sweetheart. I don’t want you to worry about me. As long as I have you and Mummy, I’ll be happy.” She smiled with genuine conviction, knowing that life wasn’t that simple but that she could always compromise about everything else so long as her family was with her. “Do you want me to run you a bath before supper?”

Her face scrunching up in thought, Christina eventually shrugged, said, “Ok,” and followed her Mama upstairs.

Leaving the bathroom door ajar, the sound of splashing followed Myka across the landing where she found Helena waiting in their room. Without any preamble, Myka rapidly closed the distance between them, wrapped her arms around tense shoulders and buried her face in the inventor’s neck. Rigid muscles slowly relaxed under her hold and she sighed as she felt her lover’s arms encircle her waist.

They let several minutes tick by as the pair of them stood lovingly in each other’s arms, listening to the gentle splashing and chattering from their daughter and enjoying the calm closeness. Myka breathed deep, measured breaths, concentrating on her partner’s unique scent and simply enjoying the rare moment of tranquillity.

“Thank you,” she mumbled into HG’s neck. “Thank you for standing up to them,” she continued as she finally drew back and met Helena’s gaze. “For being with me today. I swear, for a moment earlier, I felt like you were inside me.” At the inventor’s quirked eyebrow, Myka blushed and tutted. “Inside my head,” she qualified.

Reading the brunette’s mind, Helena reached behind her neck for one of Myka’s hands and brought it between them. They each looked down at the engagement ring and then back at one another. “Did Mrs. Fredrick happen to inform you as to the rings’ powers?”

Agent Bering shook her head. “All she would say was that they were made for me. It was cryptic, even for her.” She watched as her raven-haired beauty inspected the stone and the band in turn. “Did your grandmother ever say anything about having a psychic link with your grandfather? I can’t really figure out what happened. One moment I was ready to bolt through the front door, the next I couldn’t have cared less about my parents and all I could feel was this... certainty, that all would be fine as long as you were with me. Did you feel anything like that?”

Helena hummed in thought. As Myka had entered the room with coffee for her parents, HG had wanted to share her strength with her fiancée and erase the fear and uncertainty in her expression. She had reached for her lover’s hand out of habit, but at just about the time she had seen the change in Myka’s posture and felt her tension waning, there had been an extra warmth between their entwined fingers. She explained this and then added, “Regardless of any outside influence, you showed your parents that you’re an intelligent adult who’s entirely capable of making her own decisions and being happy with whoever you choose to love.” She watched fondly as a shy smile settled along her lover’s lips. “As to Grandma Norrie’s stories, I don’t remember anything about her sharing a sixth sense with Grandpa.  She seemed adamant that I was to inherit the rings, even if I ended up with nothing else after her departure. It does make me wonder rather. Perhaps she knew more than she let on?”

“I guess we’ll never know,” Myka said regretfully. “It’s something that we can keep an eye on however.”

“Certainly, darling,” HG agreed wholeheartedly. “In fact, as this is rather like an experiment and an investigation all muddled into one, I say we ought to test it thoroughly. In all sorts of conditions.” Her expression was suddenly full of mischief and her eyes flicked briefly between her lover and the bed.

Myka blushed while feeling a ripple of anticipation traverse the length of her body. “Later,” she promised, her voice now holding a husky edge. “Definitely later.”

“As you wish, love,” Helena whispered as she closed the gap and captured waiting lips in a gentle caress.

In order to avoid getting carried away and thus risking being caught in the act, Myka ushered the inventor into the bathroom to assist Christina while retreating to the kitchen to throw something quick together for supper, as their last meal had been some time ago. She let her mind drift, a smile still catching the corners of her mouth as she replayed the afternoon and considered the ‘experimentation’ they had planned for those precious few hours when their daughter was asleep.

Any thoughts bouncing around her brain to do with newborns, artefacts or her parents, were once more temporarily driven away by more pleasant thoughts.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Both breathing hard, groans of exertion filled the air, followed by simultaneous gusts of relief as Pete and Helena managed to manoeuvre their load through the narrow entry to Agent Lattimer’s new apartment. HG propped her hands on her hips and threw her fellow agent an un-amused look as he took the pause in their movement as a sign to flop down on the unwieldy couch for a break.

“HG, I can feel your stare. Stop being a grouch and take a load off,” Pete suggested without opening his eyes.

Helena counted to ten, a strategy she had used on many occasions with Christina, but eventually relented and perched on the end furthest away from her now sweaty friend. “Peter, we cannot take all day over this. You assured me that this task would not take long and yet there is a van full of furniture and boxes still parked outside.”

“Chill,” Pete waved an arm seemingly without a care. “CJ is fine making plans in the kitchen for the coolest fort ever built and Mykes is off talking to Artie about God knows what. Lila’s gonna keep an eye on the rug-rat while she unpacks so it’s all good.”

Helena rolled her eyes. “I do not intend to pass the remainder of my day helping you to move out of the bed and breakfast. You may remember that I have plans for this evening?”

At the reminder, Pete’s eyes finally opened again and he grinned at the inventor. “Oh yeah, top secret date night; an excuse to dress up for sexy times.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I guess Myka needs all the help she can get huh?”

“I beg your pardon?” HG’s frown deepened. “What precisely do you mean by that?”

“Well,” Agent Lattimer sat up and turned his body to face the Brit more fully. “You had a chance for all of this,” he gestured to his own body, his expression serious and pitying. “I mean, you only really got a taste before you went all Super Villain on me. That’s gotta be hard to beat,” he concluded as he slouched back into the couch.

Torn between revulsion and amusement, HG settled for shaking her head and suppressing the smile that tugged at her mouth. She was saved the hassle of commenting as Lila chose that moment to appear from the kitchen to frown at the two of them.

Pete grinned at her arrival and wasted no time as he pulled her onto his lap. “Hey babe. How’s it goin’ in there?”

Helena saw the concern on the blonde’s face and knew instantly that she’d caught part, if not all, of their conversation. She smiled to herself and shook her head at Pete’s obliviousness; he needed either to learn some discretion or to read between the lines.

“Fine. Is this where we’re going to entertain guests?” She teased, looking around the entry way and gesturing to the couch.

“Nah, but you know how old HG is; I wouldn’t want her to break a hip or anything. She needed a rest.” He grinned at the sceptical expression on Lila’s face but recoiled at the death-glare coming from the Brit. “Haha, joking. Just joking, HG.”

“So, do you want to explain why exactly Myka needs all the help she can get with her fiancée? I missed the finer points from the kitchen,” the blonde’s cool gaze settled firmly on her boyfriend, who gulped audibly and began to blurt out a garbled explanation.

Taking pity on the big oaf, Helena eventually settled a hand on his shoulder, stopping him in mid-babble, and turned her calm gaze on Lila. “It’s quite simple really. I was attempting to avoid apprehension while trying to retrieve something from my brother’s house in London, and Peter was easily distracted.” She looked him over as if she were eyeing a specimen for dissection. “I must say, I was rather disappointed by his arrival at the door and not Myka’s, though for practical purposes, I was also relieved; I don’t believe she would have succumbed to my advances quite so easily. As a matter of fact, it was weeks before I got anywhere with her, even after returning to the Warehouse. _She_ was worth the effort though,” she added without a hint of regret, looking directly at Agent Lattimer.

He blustered with exaggerated offense for several seconds before Helena quirked an eyebrow at him and tilted her head subtly at his pregnant girlfriend. She rolled her eyes when he eventually got the hint and left them to it for a while as she moved toward the kitchen in search of her daughter. _How he has survived this long, I do not know._

* * * * *

Myka stepped through her front door late Wednesday afternoon to the sound of Rachmaninoff flowing through the house and the smell of something delicious wafting out from the kitchen.

Helena had asked her to be home no later than six but wouldn’t tell her why. Though, taking in the atmosphere, Myka was beginning to get the idea that her fiancée had planned a surprise evening for just the two of them.

If the music and the food hadn’t already convinced her, the sudden appearance of a lithe figure, encased in the sexiest dress Myka had ever seen on her lover, washed away any doubt. She felt her mouth open and vaguely hoped that she didn’t drool as her eyes wandered the length of the heavy black lace that hugged HG’s figure, lingering over the dangerous dip of fabric towards her cleavage and the knee length hem that gave way to toned calves. A light chuckle snapped her out of her trance and she suddenly became aware of her quickened pulse and limp arms. Her mouth closed and then opened again, but no sound came out.

Sauntering the two or three steps across the hallway, Helena reached out for her partner’s bag and relieved her of it. “You wouldn’t want to drop this now, would you?” She turned to place the bag in the under stair closet and smirked at the audible squeak that followed her.

Not knowing whether she should or shouldn’t avert her gaze from the expanse of Helena’s back, the lanky agent ran her now free hand through her hair and concentrated on breathing, while her eyes darted back and forth between the floor and her lover.

HG closed the closet door with a snap and swayed hypnotically into the brunette’s personal space. Mischievous chocolate eyes twinkled as she flicked her head to one side and settled both hands on Myka’s shoulders, her fingers trailing patterns across any hint of exposed skin and leaving goose bumps in their wake. “Why don’t you go freshen up and try on the gift I left on our bed? Dinner won’t be for another hour.”

Myka nodded mutely. She felt her eyelids drift shut as red lips settled on hers and the taste of Helena’s lip-gloss invaded her senses. Finally finding her voice, she let her kisses trail along HG’s jaw line, toward her ear. “Or you could just come upstairs with me now,” she suggested eagerly.

“Don’t think that I’m not terribly tempted, darling.” She caught a wayward hand that was beginning to explore passed the bottom of her dress and kissed the pout that followed. “But we’ll have enough time for that later. I don’t want the rest of my efforts to go to waste. Including wrestling with my conscience to have Christina stay over at the Bed and Breakfast tonight.”

“There are new agents in both of our old rooms,” Myka observed even as her attention continued to drift over her lover’s body.

Helena placed a parting kiss on Myka’s cheek and stepped back toward the kitchen. She had removed her apron purely to see her partner’s reaction to her choice of wardrobe but preparations were not near finished and she really wanted to keep the evening on schedule. “She’s sharing with Claudia.” As she rounded the doorway, leaving Myka’s sight, she called over her shoulder, “You have 50 minutes Agent Bering, and I don’t suggest you waste them!” She returned to her task, chuckling to herself at the sound of hasty movement and the rumbling of feet drifting off up the stairs.

Myka reappeared forty-seven minutes later, her face flushed beneath a light application of make-up and hair hastily pulled back into a clip, still slightly damp tendrils falling about her face and making her appear somewhat windswept.

Standing with a taper in one hand and a lit match in the other, the inventor stopped quite still and simply stared at the apparition before her. Their eyes spoke volumes to one another until Helena suddenly hissed in pain and dropped the blackened stick that had burnt down to her thumb and finger.

Like a shot, Myka was across the length of the kitchen and seized her lover’s injured hand between her own to inspect it.

Helena felt the pain leave instantly as her attention became fixated on her lover’s close proximity, barely noticing as the brunette guided her toward the sink and forced her to stand with her fingertip and thumb under the cold tap. Myka’s hips pushed against her own as the taller agent leant over the sink and Helena felt her heart skip a beat as a toned arm brushed accidentally across her breast. The American’s dress was a dark forest green, floor length, with a sweetheart neckline (though not as daring as her own) and a huge slit to one side of the skirt, hinting at long legs. It hugged her tall figure but was still marginally roomier than some of the outfits HG had witnessed her wear in the past. Perhaps it was that slight swaying of fabric that had her so entranced? Whatever it was, the effect was quite lovely.

“I’m so sorry, Helena,” Myka fretted over the injury, unaware of her lover’s current state of mind. “I should have noticed the match. I didn’t mean to distract you.” She shook her head and laughed mildly at herself. “Well, of course I had intended to distract you, but not so much that you maimed yourself.” When there was no response forthcoming, the agent finally looked up at the Brit’s expression. “Are you even listening to my profuse apology?” She asked with mock irritation.

Helena’s eyes continued to roam her fiancée’s form with clear interest. “I was so very right about that dress,” she congratulated herself under her breath. “I was of course tempted by many thigh length gowns, thinking of having your stunning legs on show all evening, but this is better.”

“You don’t want to see my legs?” Myka teased as she continued to keep the injured woman from pulling away from the cold water.

Helena’s dark gaze returned to Myka’s playful one and bored into them. “I have plans to spend a great deal of time worshipping your legs and various other parts of your anatomy later tonight, but sometimes an element of mystery makes all the difference to the anticipation of that final unveiling, don’t you agree?”

Agent Bering removed one hand from its grip on her partner’s and ran the damp tip along the top of Helena’s breast, eliciting a small gasp in response. “You mean to leave some things to the imagination?” She asked, eyeing the expanse of cleavage that was on offer, particularly considering her height and the angle of her gaze. “I don’t know, I think there are perks to be had from knowing exactly what’s available. You know I like to window shop; see the merchandise up front.”

An inelegant scoff escaped from HG. “Merchandise?” A fire rose from behind the dark depths of her irises and tore into Myka, who merely returned the gaze calmly, a hint of a smirk pulling at her lips. “Keep talking like that and all you will be allowed to do is _window shop_.”

Myka’s smirk grew into a grin and she saw the inventor’s eyes narrow in warning. Helena tugged at her hand, indicating that she would like it back, but the lanky agent held fast. “Ten minutes for a burn, Helena,” she reminded lightly. “And, I like to try before I buy,” she continued with her teasing. The Brit wasn’t the only one who liked to wind her lover up sometimes. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can work out with the manager? Perhaps put down a deposit?” This time, as she leant closer, Myka calculated exactly how much she was distracting the other woman. She moved her mouth to linger over the pulse throbbing beneath the pale skin of her partner’s neck. “Something like this?” She brushed a kiss over a visible cord of muscle and tendon, listening carefully for the right response.

When it came, Myka was only mildly surprised by the ferocity of Helena’s focus as the running water was forgotten and hands were suddenly pushing her firmly into the work surface, lips demanding against her own and hips holding her in place. She gasped as cold digits found the gap in her skirt and settled against her thigh, and moaned her approval as they heated under contact and inched higher. Her own hands she used to tangle in raven tresses and pulled Helena’s mouth harder against her.

Their coupling was short, sweet and left Myka trembling in her lover’s arms. They stood for a time just trying to get their breath back and eventually the world around them began to come back into focus. HG left a parting kiss on her fiancée’s lips, moving to turn the tap to a warmer temperature to wash her hands. Myka straightened her outfit before approaching the Brit from behind and wrapping her arms around the smaller figure, joining their hands together and entwining their fingers.

“Did I ruin your plans?” Myka whispered into an ear, aware that Helena had a schedule for the evening, though she hardly felt repentant for the digression.

HG’s head turned to capture warm lips with her own again and she smiled. “Not at all, darling. I was entirely sure that adding formal wear to the mixture was going to account for some deviated time. I made sure to plan in some... pit-stops.” She turned off the tap once their hands were rinsed and reached for a towel as she turned in Myka’s embrace.

“I love you,” Myka gushed as she was struck with an understanding that reached to the centre of her being. “I don’t feel like those words really convey how much you mean to me, but I have no others. I love you so much.”

Helena’s eyes drifted shut as she leant forward and let her head rest against her fiancée’s. “The feeling is mutual, darling. I love you entirely too much for words to adequately describe.”

Their evening did eventually get back on track, with feet caressing one another as they sipped sparkling water from wine glasses and exchanged flirtatious banter over dessert. There was much touching again while they filled the dish washer with the used plates and utensils and one or two near misses as attentions drifted frequently from the task.

Laughing between smouldering kisses, they retreated through the house, turning out lights and locking doors, all while never breaking contact and making use of every available surface to support their figures as they indulged each desire driven impulse. By the time they reached the bedroom, shoes were long gone and dresses had lost contact with their owners. Helena pulled Myka down on top of her and wound strong legs around the brunette to keep her in place. She settled into the embrace and sighed her approval, letting instinct take over as they drove one another to greater heights.

* * * * *

Helena returned from the Leena’s shortly after breakfast, with Christina skipping along beside her asking all sorts of questions, demanding details of the romantic evening. Not surprisingly, most of her questions revolved around their meal. The eight year old was not timid with her food and HG was reminded of how quickly her little girl was growing up. It was a bitter sweet thought but mostly, she was just thankful that she had the opportunity to spend this time with her daughter.

The cloud that she’d been floating on since last night began to fall apart sometime after lunch. Myka had retreated to their room while the inventor helped Christina to source reasons for the fall of the Roman Empire and it wasn’t long before Helena began to feel the loss of their close proximity.

She found her lover in their bedroom and stood in the doorway for several seconds just appreciating the taller woman’s beauty. Eventually though, after watching the brunette open and close half a dozen drawers, she began to realise what Myka was doing and felt a confused frown replace her dreamy smile. “Are you going somewhere or just having a clearout?”

Myka turned a surprised look on the inventor and appeared to deliberate over her words for a moment. “I’m just getting a few things together in case Artie needs me to go anywhere. I always used to have an emergency bag packed,” she responded cautiously.

Frown deepening, Helena stepped into the room, moving over to where she could see the contents of her lover’s bag. There was a tightening in her stomach that she didn’t like. “Why would you need an emergency bag now and why would Artie be thinking of calling you at all when he has four agents at the bed and breakfast, not to mention Claudia too? Aren’t you restricted to light duty?”

After a pause, where her shoulders tensed and her expression suggested that she was suppressing an exasperated sigh, Myka ticked another item off her list and turned to their wardrobe. “Light duty, not no duty,” she threw behind her.

“Would you care to explain that?” Helena made no attempt to hide the irritation in her voice as she crossed her arms over her chest. They had had this argument many times, but never before had the American felt the need to be prepared for a prolonged trip, not since finding out about the baby.

This time Myka released a long breath, steeling herself for the inevitable response. “I asked Artie to send me with Pete and Steve the next time we get a ping on this Hollywood artefact,” she admitted. There was only a slight guilty edge to her tone. She felt like she was doing the right thing with returning to work, but regretted the fact that she hadn’t divulged her intentions.

“When were you going to ask me?” HG demanded.

Helena’s comment hit its mark in Myka’s conscience, but the manner of her question struck a different nerve. “Ask? Since when do I have to ask your permission to do my job?”

Waving a hand dismissively, the inventor’s tone hardened, her anger at the situation building. “Semantics. When were you going to _share_ this information with me? When you were halfway out the door!?”

Tension rising and voices becoming sharper with each traded accusation, the pair continued to face off. Helena followed Myka around the room, feeling a growing impulse to seize the tote bag from her fiancée and throw it somewhere out of sight, while the brunette just wished that the Victorian would give her some space.

“Helena, don’t.” Myka warned firmly. “Don’t make this into a bigger issue that it needs to be.” She ran a hand through her hair, looking around the room for anything she’d missed and finally zipped up her bag. She now stood face to face with the raven-haired inventor and softened her tone as she tried to explain her initiative. “I can’t do my job from home. Researching is fine, it serves its purpose, but I can’t solve this case from home. I need to be at the scene. I need to be able to see the surrounding area to put all of the pieces together. Pete and Steve have their talents, mine is observation.”

Not so easily mollified from her fears, Helena quickly picked apart her lover’s argument. “So you’re going to risk your life because you’re bored and frustrated, is that it?”

“I’m not bored.” The American insisted shortly. Seeing HG’s raised eyebrow though, she relented slightly. “Ok fine, I don’t find myself particularly challenged these days. I’m happy with the time I spend with you and Christina but I need more.”

Helena’s tone lowered dangerously. “You need excitement? The thrill of the chase? A bit of danger perhaps?” Some part of her brain was aware that she was channelling her anger at a shadow of her former self and projecting that onto Myka, but she couldn’t help being angry at the taller agent for planning to put her selfish desires before the safety of herself and particularly their child.

“You know that’s not what this is about,” Myka responded in defence. “People are going missing and it’s our job to protect them. It’s our duty to see that these artefacts are locked away where they’re not going to be a danger to anyone. It is a risk, Helena. I’m not ignorant of that and I understand why you don’t want me to go, but this isn’t just a whim to scratch an itch. People are in danger...”

“People are always in danger...” HG interrupted forcefully.

Myka rounded on the Brit with fire in her eyes. “And until the new agents are trained, we are the best resources for the Warehouse!”

Silence filled the space between them and they became aware of a slight ringing in the air. Had their voices been so loud? Or was it just the heightened emotion that pealed through their minds?

Helena swallowed with difficulty. How could she make Myka see the potential disaster behind her intentions? It wasn’t a lesson she could learn without experience and by then it would be too late. “What happened to protecting this ‘fragile, precious thing’?” she tried again to make her lover see sense, drawing on Myka’s concern after they’d first discovered the pregnancy.

Myka sagged onto the bed and began to speak again in a calmer voice, taking her partner’s reticence as an opportunity to explain her actions more fully. “I don’t intend to go off chasing artefacts and dodging bullets, figurative or not. I’m going to investigate the scene, not to be in the thick of the action. I’m aware of what that could mean. For the baby, for me, for us... But I can’t ignore the duty I have to the victims involved. Somebody needs to be able to piece this investigation together. We’re a team and we all need to pull together on this one.” She attempted to reach out for her fiancée’s hand but though Helena didn’t pull away, the appendage remained limp in hers. “I don’t plan on getting involved with this artefact in person. I’ll leave that up to the others.”

Turning sad eyes on the seated woman, HG knew that Myka was adamant about pursuing this path. Seeing that there was only one way to tackle this issue, she began to make plans of her own. “No one ever intends to fall victim to an artefact.” A joyless smile played on her lips. “Bloody Hell, Myka. We’re here because of you accidentally becoming ‘involved’ with two artefacts.” Removing her hand from the American’s in a move that suggested she was touching something tainted, the inventor turned on her heel and stalked to the door in defeat. “Don’t think you can console me with baseless platitudes,” she left in her wake.

Myka sat unmoving and listened for several minutes to distant voices. Only when she heard the front door close and the igniting of the car engine did she let the tears fall.

 


	8. Chapter 8

During her drive over to the Warehouse, Helena agonised over the logic and intelligence behind her rash decision. She tried to calm her mind to look at the situation from all angles but she was still furious; at herself, at the Warehouse, at Artie, at whoever was behind the disappearances, but mostly at Myka’s short-sighted insistence that her deductive skills were needed out in the field.

_Well, she’s not the only one who has experience in that area,_ she thought spitefully. The horrible gut churning that followed this thought made her gasp for breath and, taking her foot off the gas, she manoeuvred the car into a lay-by and put it in park.

She felt fear and helplessness creeping along the fretful tendrils of her anger and let her head fall into her hands.

Had she brought this on herself? She knew that Myka had had a lot to deal with in coming to terms with her pregnancy and helping Helena to deal with her fear of not being in control. Had she been so demanding, so inflexible, that the American felt stifled by their life together and had to resort to going behind her back to return to her previous existence?

No matter how the lanky agent tried to justify it, Helena knew that Myka’s motivation wasn’t just about saving lives. Her reasoning might be altruistic, but deep down she was an agent who also liked to be in control and chafed at taking a back seat.

That element was the source of HG’s concern now. If the problem had simply been about saving people, what she was about to do to derail Myka’s plans wouldn’t have such potential to blow up in her face.

Still, if her fiancée was determined, then HG felt like she had very little choice in the matter. She was capable of performing the same role as Myka and would convince Artie of this fact before the day was out. She would rather Myka hated and resented her, than let the woman she loved die or lose herself in despair if something happened to their unborn child.

With renewed resolve, she put the car back into drive and pulled onto the road. By the time she reached Warehouse 13, most of her doubts had been squashed and she entered the umbilicus with a confidence she hadn’t experienced in years.

Artie glanced at her after witnessing her forceful entrance. “I had a feeling I’d be seeing you soon,” he commented shortly.

 “Tell me you’re not seriously considering sending Myka out on assignment,” she jumped in with no preamble.

Artie leant back in his chair, observing her calmly over steepled fingers. “Why shouldn’t I? She seems aware of her limits and assures me that she only intends to accompany agents Jinks and Lattimer as a consultant. The Regents are pushing us to wrap this one up quickly; Hollywood poses too much risk of exposure; the longer these disappearances continue, the more likely we’re going to have to run interference with the media. That gets costly.”

Helena shook her head, collapsed into a nearby chair and sank into her hands again. For a few minutes, she gathered her thoughts and asked herself for the final time if she was really going to go through with her plan to replace Myka. Her head rose slowly as she looked over at the director again. “Do you honestly believe that she’s fully aware of what she’s risking? She’s under the delusion that she can ride along on an artefact retrieval and not find herself in a situation where she is forced to or feels duty bound to help. We both know that the likelihood of the mission deteriorating is high. It always is. So I ask again; are you seriously considering sending Myka out on assignment?”

Artie eyed her for a moment, letting her stew just a few seconds longer than necessary. The fact that he was comfortable with her now and trusted her to some degree did not erase the sting of her betrayal or that bullet in his shoulder. “Do you have a better proposal?”

“Send me,” she answered simply, feeling almost as if she were bartering her soul to the devil.

Silence fell between them and HG kept the director’s gaze, refusing to feel intimidated. She expected him to demand further reassurances of her loyalty and qualifications for why she was a better candidate than her fiancée, but after a long period of starring, he simply shrugged.

“Ok.”

“Ok?”

“Yes, ok.” He swivelled around in his chair to face his desk, dismissing her confusion. “I didn’t want to send her with Pete and Steve, I wouldn’t have heard the end of it from Mrs. Fredrick, but she had a lot of good points to make. With the Regents breathing down my neck, I didn’t have much choice.” He glanced back at her with an appraising expression, “Now I do.”

Not sure whether to feel elated at her success or worried for her imminent involvement in an artefact hunt, HG left without a farewell and began her journey home.

* * * * *

After driving around aimlessly for over an hour, Helena reconciled with what she had done and returned home to face the music.

There was a clear sky up above, the waxing gibbous moon bright against a backdrop of stars and a chill in the air that made one wish to cuddle up close to a lover. A romantic evening by all accounts.

HG sighed as she contemplated the reception that might be waiting for her inside. Would Myka be feeling apologetic? Would she be thinking of changing her mind or would the time spent apart only have served to ground her determination more firmly? What of Christina? Despite the inventor’s reassurances as she left the house, the young girl would know that there was something wrong. At the very least, HG knew that she could count on Myka to try and keep their daughter calm. There was never any possibility of them being divided so far as their daughter’s happiness and well being were concerned.

Soft voices drifted out from the library as the inventor entered the house, and she walked silently down the hall, listening carefully as she approached the source. Chancing a glance around the doorway, she immediately spotted her targets.

Myka sat on a plush rug in front of the fire, a brush in her hand and a pyjama-clad eight year old in her lap. Christina had a large atlas open in front of her, but the way she was listlessly turning the pages told the inventor that her little girl was far too distracted to be interested in the geographical information before her.

“But how do you know?” Christina insisted, her tone unhappy.

“She just needs some time alone to think. Even if she hadn’t promised you that she’d be back later, she would never just leave, Sweetheart.” Myka continued to separate locks of hair with her fingertips and run the brush through them. She could quite easily have used a hairdryer and had the whole drawn out task completed in half the time, but Helena knew that both Myka and Christina enjoyed this ritual in front of the fire.

“Suppose she had a change of heart?” The girl voiced her fears, abandoning the book altogether to pick at the pile of the rug.

“Christina, look at me,” Myka insisted, her patient tone deceptively firmer.

Helena ducked out of sight. She felt bad for eavesdropping, but wanted to hear what her lover had to say and had a feeling that Christina needed to hear it even more.

Myka fixed her daughter with a serious expression, placing a hand on each of the girl’s shoulders as she began to speak. “Whatever difficulties your mother and I face, we still love each other very much. Sometimes it’s better to have time apart to think things over so we can talk about them better. You don’t want us to spend all day arguing, do you?” The child shook her head slowly and Myka stroked an errant strand of hair out of her face. “We don’t want to spend all our time arguing either, which is why space is sometimes a good thing. But, above all of that, Honey, your mother and I can never bear to spend too much time away from you. We’ll always come back home, because you’re here.”

Chancing another peek around the corner, Helena saw Christina drop her head onto Myka’s shoulder, while the agent gently rocked back and forth, and she was suddenly struck by how alike the two seemed bathed in a warm glow from the fire. She moved silently to fill the doorway and stayed there for some time before dark eyes opened and focussed on her.

“Mummy!” Christina’s head shot up, her eyes brightening with the inventor’s arrival.

Myka’s head turned and her gaze too lighted on the returned Victorian. There was relief and the usual joy in her expression too but tempered by concern. “What did I tell you? There she is.”

Crossing the room to the pair, Helena lowered herself next to them and opened her arms for Christina to scramble into her lap. “Darling, you weren’t really worried, were you? I told you I’d be back.” Those dark eyes focussed on her again and she could see the concern behind them. “Christina, I’m afraid this is likely an occurrence that will be repeated in the future. Myka and I are both stubborn and opinionated; there will be times when we need to be apart to let our tempers cool off. That does not mean we stop caring about each other, or you.” Her no-nonsense tone seemed to get through finally and Christina looked down to where her parents were holding hands. HG followed her gaze and then met Myka’s equally puzzled expression; when had that happened? Nonetheless, she squeezed the fingers between her own and leant over to kiss her lover lightly. “Well, now that we’ve cleared that up, have you two eaten?”

By silent agreement, and for Christina’s peace of mind, the adults put their issues aside for the remainder of the evening and concentrated most of their efforts on entertaining their daughter. They played scrabble for almost an hour, drank hot chocolate while reading a selection of tales from the Grimm brothers, and eventually, Christina made her way to the bathroom to wash and brush before she crawled into bed. However, even though they put on a good show, both women could feel the tension and awkwardness that didn’t usually sit between them, and were somewhat relieved when they finished tucking their daughter into bed and were finally left alone once more.

Myka made for their bedroom the moment Christina’s door closed but stopped to frown at her fiancée when there was no move from the Victorian to follow her. “Helena, we need to talk. I agree with what you said about cooling off, but we can’t just forget the issue either. Artie could call any day.”

HG nodded, picturing the coming day when she, not Myka, would have to leave for a while. “I know.” She ran her hand through her hair. Knowing that she couldn’t avoid the awkward talk they had to have, she began to walk towards the stairs. “We’ll go to my work room.”

Feeling an ominous tightening in her stomach, Myka followed silently. When they reached the depths of their basement, she watched the raven-haired inventor lean against her workbench, which was strewn with blue-prints and tools, and saw her take a deep breath. “Helena, what’s going on?”

“I can’t let you do it,” HG declared stubbornly.

Myka’s stance stiffened at those words and her arms crossed over her chest in a move of obvious dislike. “You can’t _let me_?”

“I realise that my past experiences often lead to extremes in my behaviour and that I overreact with many things, but this is different. This is you being short-sighted and unaware of the very real possibility of you and/or our baby being hurt.” Helena gripped the edge of the table, her voice low but clear as she watched her lover’s anger rising.

Biting her lips for several seconds after the Victorian stopped talking, Myka tried to find a logical thought beneath the river of ire in her veins. “What should we live for; what should we want for our children but to live in a world where people are willing to take risks to help one another? Wasn’t that the utopia you hoped to awaken in? Or is that simply something for other people to do while we reap the benefits?”

Hearing her own words return to haunt her, reminding them both of another time when she’d gone behind Myka’s back, HG closed her eyes for a moment.

“You do make a good point, darling,” the Brit admitted, remembering what Artie had said a few hours earlier. “And I am not ignorant of your intentions either. I still think that you’re not seeing the whole picture clearly and that your wanting to be involved has just as much to do with your fear of the changes in our lives, than it is to do with duty and saving lives. However,” she added when her partner’s mouth opened and her eyes shone with indignant fury. “You are correct. We have a duty to put our skills to use for the Warehouse. I’ve been neglecting that duty for some time now, which is why I asked Artie to send me in your place.”

Myka’s mouth closed with a snap and her arms fell limply to her sides. “W... what?” She shook her head, replaying her fiancée’s words to make sure she’d heard them right. “But, you’re not cleared to work in the field, and you haven’t been on a hunt for years.”

“I followed you into that scarab in Paris, and I think you may recall that I was forced to become rather heavily involved in chasing down that jaw bone in Boone,” the inventor responded coolly.

“Exactly, you felt forced, you wanted to give up working with artefacts.” Green eyes darted around the room, searching for an explanation for this sudden shift from what she’d had in mind a few moments earlier. “You won’t even set foot in the Warehouse any more ‘cause you’re scared something will ruin this life we’ve built.” She began to pace, her fingers curling into fists as she tried to find a way to circumvent Helena’s actions.

_How could I not have seen this coming?_ she asked herself desperately. _Artie only wanted me as a last resort, he won’t send me now that Helena says she’ll go. Oh God, Helena has to go. What have I done? It should have been me. How could she do this? Damn her!_

“Myka, if you are determined that this current case requires a more seasoned and analytical mind, then I am predisposed to ‘join the hunt’. Innocents are in danger and you were correct in reminding me that we should help to protect them. But I simply cannot stand by and watch you run into the thick of what could turn out to be a very dangerous retrieval while carrying our child. I won’t lose you and I won’t lose another child.” She took a slow breath and sighed at the look of outrage and betrayal on her partner’s face. “I’m sorry, darling. When Artie calls, I will go, not you.”

* * * * *

HG stayed in her workshop for hours after Myka had taken herself off to bed in a silent rage. She had tried, towards the end of their discussion, to reach out to her lover and offer some form of comfort, but the American was far too incensed to accept any attempt at appeasement and simply left Helena standing in the deafening silence, her hand outstretched, reaching into nothing.

Eventually tiring after trying to distract herself with blueprints, the inventor fell into her thinking chair and stared at the far wall as she drifted in and out of unsettling dreams where Myka was giving birth behind a semi-transparent wall, which had no door and appeared resistant to any attempt at being broken. Followed by an old, imagined scene, of Christina’s final moments in her cousin’s house in Paris. Finally, Myka, broken and bloodied, sobbing next to a lump of flesh that could have been a foetus.

She woke to full consciousness suddenly, without any knowledge of the time. Her neck ached where she’d fallen asleep at an odd angle and she felt completely unwilling to face the day. Despite knowing that she was doing what needed to be done to protect her growing family, the way the evening had ended with Myka tore at her insides. Since becoming involved again, they had not spent a night apart due to an argument. Even when they had occasionally gone to bed while still annoyed, it had been together, and their bodies would gravitate toward one another in sleep so that they often woke up with shared smiles and apologies.

Remembering that Myka’s first scan was today, Helena looked down at the clothes she’d slept in and knew that a priority this morning would be to freshen up and be ready to head out when the time came. As she made her way upstairs, she listened for familiar voices. The oven timer, as she passed, read 8:47 and she frowned to herself at the silence that permeated the air.

Upstairs there was still no sign of life. Christina’s bed had been made and her pyjamas were folded neatly on her pillow.  Across the landing, Helena pushed open her own bedroom door, saw the same familiar neatness and as her eyes swept the room, she spotted a note on the foot of the bed.

Recognising Myka’s tidy handwriting, the inventor perched on the edge of the bed and began to read.

_Helena,_

_I’ve taken Christina shopping (I assume I’m still allowed to do that?) and will take her to the diner for lunch. I’ll drop her off at the B &B at 1:00 and I suppose I’ll meet you there. I’ll go directly to have my scan from Leena’s so don’t be late if you still want to come with me._

_Love,_

_Myka_

_P.S. I haven’t said anything to Christina about last night. I told her you were working on a project and probably fell asleep. At least, I assume you’re still down there as you didn’t come to bed at all!_

The tone of the letter made it quite clear that Myka was still sore about their argument and the fact that Helena had gone behind her back. However, though she suspected that the brunette had deliberated over the words for a few seconds, the ‘Love, Myka’ was evidence of what they had told their daughter; no matter what their difficulties, they didn’t stop being in love.

Folding the letter and tucking it away in a false book on the shelf, HG ran a hand through her hair and surveyed the room. The matching robes hanging on the back of the open door; the family photos on the chest of drawers; the slight bend in one of the metal embellishments at the head of their bed; all of these things served to remind her that this truly was her life and that her fierceness in wanting to protect it was not misplaced.

Somehow, she would make amends with Myka and their lives would continue to flow more smoothly again, but in the meantime, she would just have to push through the day and see where it led them.

* * * * *

‘Shopping’ was an ambitious word to use with regards to Univille’s commercial area. Half a dozen businesses lined each side of the street, including a Laundromat, the rundown post office and a Bookies. With snow still on the ground, Myka didn’t want to linger outside with her daughter too long and encouraged her to choose their first stop quickly.

Letting the eight year old lead her into the post-office, which was open for a change, Myka explained the basic working of the postal service and allowed her daughter to charm the sour-faced civil servant behind the counter with her usual line of enthusiastic inquisition.

By the time they left, Christina had helped to weigh and price three packages and was exalting the perks of ‘snail mail’. Myka exchanged a stupefied look with the dragon lady, as Pete often called her, and shook her head fondly, thinking of how dorky her daughter could be sometimes. Still, there was no doubt that the young girl was going to stand by her sudden interest in having a pen-pal, and Myka smiled at the idea.

They visited two other businesses, a small, family owned furniture store and the pawnbrokers, before Christina insisted on picking something up for her mother. Entering the hardware store, Myka followed the wavy-haired girl down an aisle, taking in dozens of dispirit components with barely a clue to what any of them would be used for. Having tried hard all morning to not think about her fiancée, the agent found her mind suddenly assaulted with thoughts.

After leaving Helena standing in their basement, she had locked herself in their bathroom to prepare for bed, thinking that the inventor was bound to be close behind her and wanting to be mentally prepared for the flood of emotion she could feel behind her anger.

When she emerged from the en-suite to find the room still empty, she naturally assumed that her partner had either come and perhaps gone to use the guest bathroom, or else she needed a little more time to gather her own thoughts before coming to bed.

Two hours of tossing and turning with no hide nor hair of the Victorian, Myka finally broke down and cried guilty, resentful tears into her pillow.

During her conversation with Artie, she had been confident in her convictions. She was capable of doing her usual job to a limited extent and Helena was simply being paranoid with her constant concern over Myka’s health and safety. Plenty of women continued to work through their pregnancies, often until they were ready to drop. If she took it easy, surely the occasional assignment wasn’t too much to try, and if it got her out of the house and helped her to feel less tense, then that was a good thing too, right? Feeling increasingly stifled and useless wasn’t going to make her pregnancy any easier. She wanted to enjoy this time, to look forward to having this baby, but her recent thoughts were beginning to sound more and more resentful. She was afraid that, when the time came, she would hold her newborn in her arms and feel nothing but relief to have her body and potential freedom back.

It was hard to share these feelings with Helena. The Victorian seemed so at ease with their lives that Myka didn’t want to break that bubble. However, perhaps forcing them into this encounter hadn’t been the brightest of ideas to tackle that problem. Had she really imagined that Helena would just accept Myka’s initiative and begrudgingly offer her blessing? A kiss and a whispered ‘be careful’ and an ‘I will’ as they parted at the door? Not when the American was so determined to be reckless.

And it was reckless, she was beginning to see that now. Was her life truly so difficult that she needed a rush of adrenaline to let her know she was still alive? No. Her family kept her constantly aware of their joy and deep affection. Love flowed continually through their home and brightened even the dullest of days. So what had she been searching for in returning to practical fieldwork? Was she not satisfied unless some part of her life was under threat?

She paid for Christina’s purchase without really taking any notice of what the child was buying, but she trusted the girl’s judgement in these matters and gave it only a passing thought as they exited the store and made their way to the diner at last.

Through their meal, Myka questioned her daughter’s intentions for her letter writing and together, they began to draft an exciting missive to send to Adelaide to supplement the girls’ Skype and phone conversations.

As they wandered along the driveway of the bed and breakfast around 12:45, the agent paused outside for a few seconds in thought. Christina waited patiently, gazing up at the adult with curious eyes.

“Mama, are you and Mummy still fighting?”

Hesitating, the brunette’s hand automatically squeezed the girl’s small digits before she answered. “No, Sweetheart. I think it’s fair to say that we’re done arguing. I just need to find a way to apologise now,” she murmured, feeling guilt building up in the pit of her stomach. _Stupid_ , she thought again as she continued to look back on her actions.

“What for?”Christina pushed for information, her curious gaze intent on her sombre looking parent.

How was she going to explain that the eight year old’s mother was going to be caught up in chasing an artefact because of her? That it was her fault if Helena got hurt? “Just for being a bit of an idiot. For not appreciating what I have right in front of me.”

Dark eyes seemed to consider this answer for a moment before a frown appeared. “Did Mummy really spend all night working in the basement?” She asked insightfully.

Myka forced a small smile and shook her head slightly. There was no doubting that the girl was incredibly smart; she was rarely fooled by half-truths. “Who knows what your loony mother gets up to down there?” She chuckled, eliciting a responding grin from her daughter. She sobered quickly though. “I’m not entirely sure, Sweetheart. She was down there when I went to bed and still down there this morning. I can only assume that she got caught up in whatever she was doing.” A sceptical expression stared back at her, but she gamely ignored it. “Come on. We’d better get you inside so I’m not late for my appointment.”

 


	9. Chapter 9

After a brief shower and a change of clothes, Helena stood before the full-length mirror in her bedroom and tried to listen to the oft-downtrodden voice in the back her mind that spoke of reason.

Her night-time musings had forced that voice to the surface and out of hibernation, revealing truths that were uncomfortable to face.

Perhaps if she’d given Myka more space; perhaps if she hadn’t made regular comments about her diet, which was hardly poor to modern standards, or not hinted that she would like to hear from her a dozen times a day while she was at the Warehouse. Maybe then, her lover would not have felt the need to break from their routine, would not have needed the thrill of adventure.

Perhaps she had convinced herself that Myka had freedoms that, as a young woman, Helena had only dreamed of, and therefore the young agent couldn’t possibly want for much more, could she? Then there was the Warehouse that, although exciting to work in, often caused the American calamity and surely was starting to get tiresome, wasn’t it? Before Yellowstone, they had both enjoyed the danger involved in their jobs and had built their early relationship on their passion for solving mysteries and escaping death on a regular basis. Ignoring this fact though, she imagined that Myka’s feelings were akin to her own.

Once encapsulated in a holo-projector, with her body wandering obliviously around some distant town, with a fake name and a vapid smile, she had undergone a significant metamorphosis in regards to her opinion of the Warehouse. Despite knowing that she had been her own worst enemy, she began to resent the Warehouse for insinuating itself into her life in the first place. True, without it she would never have met Myka, but wouldn’t have known any better so could never have missed having her around. Her own foolish arrogance had pulled her away from her daughter too often, but without the Warehouse’s influence, she might never have had that opportunity.

Boone had been a poor attempt to deny that part of herself, but while there, she had begun to appreciate the simple joys of a normal life. Even if it had ended bitterly, the imprint of that fake life had a significant effect on the way she led her current daily existence. She had been trying so hard to play the ‘normal’ role of mother and significant other that she had forgotten how not normal they all were.

She had jumped from one extreme to the other and was paying for her mistakes once more. _I hope that this time I can minimise the fallout_.

Wanting to be ready for when Myka arrived at the bed and breakfast, HG shrugged her arms into her bulky winter jacket, which reached almost to her knees, and slipped out the door. The short walk gave her very little time to gather any optimism so, as she lingered in the doorway to the dining room a short time later, she was annoyed to find that their grumpy director had taken up refuge in there and had several files open on the table. A brief glance confirmed her suspicions as to which case he was reviewing.

“Agent Wells,” Artie greeted her without looking up. “We need to meet for a debriefing soon. I know tomorrow is Saturday, but artefacts don’t recognise downtime; I’d rather you were up to date on everything before Monday.”

She nodded slowly. “Very well,” she answered apathetically.

A disgruntled but sympathetic face finally rose to take in her appearance and observed her stiff stature for a moment. “Are you having regrets?”

Thinking that he might choose to refuse her voluntary service in favour of her fiancée once more, Helena’s expression hardened. “I do not regret wanting to keep Myka and the baby safe.”

“So what is it then?” He pushed for more information, recognising the shadow of something she was struggling with. Now that she no longer hid behind an act, she was very easy to read. He supposed that was the point; she had worked hard to gain their trust once more and had sacrificed a part of herself to do it. When he’d worked closely with her in the beginning, she had been cold and uncaring. Perhaps she had worn a different mask with Myka in private, or else had let his favourite agent peek behind the mask a little, but the HG Wells he’d known then was nothing like the woman who sat before him now, afraid but determined. He was reminded of an alternative time line and the personal sacrifice she had made for Myka. “Out with it,” he grumbled.

Eyes narrowing, the inventor reluctantly took a seat opposite the director. She leant back slightly, her gaze alternating between the table, door and her companion as she struggled to find the right words. “All I seem to end up doing, regardless of any effort to the contrary, is to force her into situations that don’t suit her. I do appreciate the concessions she makes to accommodate my failings, but I always come to this realisation too late. She sacrifices too much for me. What if all I ever do is take advantage of her?”

A raised, bushy eyebrow stared back at the inventor in surprise. “We all make sacrifices for the people we love,” he responded shortly, thinking of his family back in Russia, his son, his agents, Vanessa. “You have to discuss this with Myka. I doubt the answer will be simple. What I do know,” he added begrudgingly. “Is that she’s never been happier than when she’s with you.”

Nodding again, she felt a marginal easing of tightness around her chest. “The feeling is mutual.” A hand pushed through her hair. “I just need to find a way of not destroying everything, as I am want to do.” She shot Artie a self-depreciating smile and breathed a long sigh.

“Mrs. Fredrick told me about the rings,” he confessed after a moment of companionable silence. “I’ve never been a big believer in ‘beneficial artefacts’. There are always side effects. I’ve been told, under no uncertain terms, to leave the matter alone, but I am curious. Have you noticed anything unusual since she started wearing your grandmother’s ring?”

Helena hesitated only briefly before divulging some of the incidences where she and Myka had felt so close that they were almost of one mind, one being. They discussed the unlikely circumstances surrounding the brunette’s acquisition of her family heirloom and the possible meaning behind this event. Fate became the topic of conversation for a short time until neither of them could reach a satisfactory conclusion and eventually, they agreed to leave the subject and continue to observe the effects.

As one o’clock approached, Helena felt her confidence begin to fluctuate again. What sort of mood would Myka be in? Would she listen to the inventor’s apologies, even though Helena did not intend to retract her decision to go with Pete and Steve on their next hunt?

There was also a tentative excitement lingering in the back of her mind; today they were going to see their baby for the first time. Of the many modern technological advances, the ultra-sound was one of her favourites. Other than her own desire to see her second child, HG hoped that seeing the foetus would make the situation more real to Myka. Her lover had been right about one thing, she did process information more easily with visual stimuli.

She heard the sound of crunching footsteps on the path leading up to the front door and stood from the table. Moving into the hallway, standing beside the stairs, she had a good view of the pair who entered and felt a budding hope grow at the much calmer expression on her lover’s face. As per usual, it was Christina who ran to her first with her usual cry of recognition. HG crouched and drew the girl into her arms, squeezing her tight and lingering over the kiss she placed on a cool temple.

“It’s still rather cold I see,” she pulled back to take in the rosy cheeks and bright eyes. “Did you spend all morning outside?”

“No, Mummy.” Christina rolled her eyes. “We only went between shops and walked back from the diner. Are you going to bring back a picture of the baby? Will you find out if it’s a boy or a girl?” She swiftly changed the subject, knowing that there wasn’t much time before her parents had to leave.

“Yes, for the thousandth time, we will bring back a picture,” Helena rolled her own eyes, mimicking the gesture. “You know very well from having read at least half a dozen books on the subject that we may or may not be able to find out the baby’s gender. Now skedaddle! We’ll be as quick as we can.”

“Alright, bye Mummy,” she kissed Helena on the corner of her mouth and returned to Myka to repeat the action. “See you later, Mama!” She called as she high-tailed it into the living room.

There was an awkward silence for several seconds where the American avoided her fiancée’s gaze while biting her lip. Helena waited to see what she had to say.

Feeling the inventor’s earlier comment playing on her mind, Myka hesitated briefly before blurting, “Did you really think I would keep her out in this weather for so long?”

Smiling, HG felt relief flow through her. “No, darling.” She stepped gently toward her lover and placed a tentative hand on her forearm. “I’m sorry, I was teasing.”

Prickling tendrils of shame brought a sigh to the brunette’s lips. “No... I’m sorry.” She ran an agitated hand through her hair. “I have to stop jumping to conclusions.” She lifted her gaze to finally meet dark orbs. “Helena...”

HG placed a finger on now warm lips and shook her head slowly. “It’s ok. We will sort it all out, as it should be. We’ll sit down and discuss everything in due time, I promise. For now though, let’s not be late for our appointment; I have to confess that I’m rather excited about this process, though nervous? Does that make any sense whatsoever?” She smiled warmly and Myka followed suit.

“Sure it does.” She placed her hands on her lover’s elbows, a flurry of emotion swirling behind green eyes as she gazed at Helena. “I love you,” she declared in a whisper.

Slowly, the inventor leant in and placed a soft, gentle kiss on a waiting mouth. “I love you too,” she returned, as she wound one set of digits with Myka’s and guided her to the door. “Come on. Let’s not tarry any longer. Before we know it, Christina will return to investigate and then we’ll both be in _real_ trouble.”

* * * * *

After leaving Claudia’s room, new blue prints in hand, Christina descended the stairs and wandered into the kitchen where she could smell something delicious in the air. Perching herself on a stool, she gazed at the worktop unseeing, rolling her new construction plans back and forth in front of her.

When she’d arrived earlier that afternoon, she had felt full of excitement and anticipation. She loved spending time at Leena’s; Claudia was a great deal more relaxed than either of her parents, though her Mummy was improving and her Mama was usually only tense when she was tired. The red head was naturally excited about everything and didn’t hold back when she felt like bouncing around to let that feeling out.

Today though, something lingered at the back of her mind. Her mothers had argued. They snapped at each other occasionally but those incidences were always followed by an apology. Then sometimes they fell into heated debates but those were soon laughed about afterwards. This recent fight was much rarer and left her feeling uncomfortable and, despite constant reassurances, worried. They tried to hide it, but they worried too.

Watching surreptitiously from across the kitchen, Leena finished wiping down some scattered flour and then approached the island to stand opposite her young charge. “Hey there CJ. There’s a grey cloud hanging over your head. You want to tell me why?” She asked kindly.

Christina shrugged a little; a habit she’d picked up from Myka. “Why do adults argue with one another?”

“Have Myka and HG been at logger-heads?” Leena probed, receiving a small nod in return. “They do like having a difference of opinion, I think that’s a normal part of their relationship. It’s healthy for them.”

Shaking her soft curls, the girl looked earnestly at her frizzy haired friend. “This time isn’t like the normal arguments they have. Mummy slept in the basement. She always sleeps with Mama whenever they’re just disagreeing, and Mama took me out this morning without saying goodbye to Mummy. Now Mama says she has to apologise, but for what?”

Leena could see the questions tearing the girl up inside and knew that her thoughts went much deeper than the average eight year old’s. On a whim, she decided to share something with the youngest Wells that she’d never shared with anyone else. “Do you know, when HG first arrived in our time, she was confused and angry; she had a dark cloud over her head too,” she waved a hand over Christina’s head as if to chase one away, making the girl smile again. “But when Myka was around, that cloud drifted away for a while. No matter how sad your mother was or how angry they were at each other, Myka always chased those clouds away.

“Myka, on the other hand, didn’t carry a dark cloud around.” Now Leena moved around the island to take up a stool next to the girl, keeping her voice conversational and her expression light. “She was fairly content with her life at the Warehouse,” she confided. “But the moment she met your mother, chasing her down to arrest her I might add,” she said with a laugh, bringing a new spark of interest to dark eyes. “Myka’s aura exploded. She constantly complained that your mother infuriated and confused her, but to anyone looking closely enough, and I was, she loved every moment of it. She became electrified by HG’s presence and they formed a bond that I have never seen between two people before.

“Your mothers have a rare connection that others would envy if they could see it. They might upset each other from time to time, and perhaps they’ll even need to be apart for a while, but they will always be pulled back together eventually.”

“You really think so?” Hopeful, Christina leant closer to the intuitive woman and found herself being pulled into a hug. Somehow, it was easier to trust Leena on this subject than either of her parents. They rarely told bald faced lies, but they tried hard not to upset her and so sometimes they didn’t divulge the whole truth.

“I know so,” Leena assured the young Brit firmly.

* * * * *

Annoyed, Myka fidgeted on the hard plastic chair in the waiting room. How was her fiancée managing to sit so still? She let out a breath of frustration and dark eyes rounded on her with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. “How can you be comfortable in these chairs?” She asked in amazement.

“What makes you believe that I’m comfortable?” Helena’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Years of training from my mother taught me to sit like a lady, no matter where I might be.”

A frown forming, the American’s twitching elapsed. “Are you saying that I can’t behave like a lady?”

Chuckling, HG pulled a hand to her mouth and kissed it. “I think we both know that, beneath the surface, I am far less ladylike than you, darling.” She observed her lover’s posture and saw that she did indeed appear uncomfortable. Removing her coat from the chair beside her, she folded it carefully and bid her partner to stand. “There,” she said as Myka sat on the makeshift cushion. “Any better?”

Doe eyes fell on the inventor. Though she felt taller than ever, elevated above the others around her, she did indeed feel more comfy. “Yes, thank you.” Her gaze turning speculatively playful, she added, “You didn’t happen to teach yourself gentlemanly manners on the side, did you?”

“Others may have considered them _gentlemanly_ , but manners should be interchangeable between genders. I haven’t become any less of a woman for offering my coat to a lady.” Seeing Myka’s amused raised eyebrow, HG realised that her tone had hardened slightly. “Yes,” she confessed. “I had Charles and Woolly teach me some manners that were considered less effeminate.”

Myka leant down from her raised height and kissed the corner of her lover’s mouth. Helena immediately turned to face her and she risked another dip for a shared kiss.

The waiting room they were in was sparsely populated, with only one other couple and a young woman, of about twenty-five, sitting alone in a far corner. Like her and Helena, the other couple were conversing in quiet tones, and the lone woman had her head buried in a magazine.

Regardless of the issues lying between them, the agents found themselves falling into familiar patterns. Eyes and hands sought their counterparts and conversed without words, while all around them, the world faded into the background.

When the obstetrician, Doctor Klein, called their names, several seconds passed before they responded and Myka felt a blush rise into her cheeks as she stood and handed Helena her coat. They followed the squat blonde into an examination room, exchanged introductions and pleasantries, and each took a seat.

“Right, let’s get started then, shall we?”

Feeling infinitely grateful for Helena’s supporting presence, Myka submitted to a blood test, height and weight measurements and answered the questions about her medical history. There was an awkward moment where they were asked which method of fertility treatment they used to become pregnant and she felt like she hesitated too long. Helena was quicker off the mark and explained briefly that they had used a mixture of their eggs along with a sperm donor so they had no way of knowing which of them the biological mother was. Dr. Klein made a notation in Myka’s file and jotted down a few notes about the Brit’s medical history too. HG couldn’t help the small grin that tugged at her mouth when asked for her date of birth even as she smoothly recited her fabricated details.

Finally, Myka was asked to climb up on the examination table and she felt Helena’s hand grasp hers as they waited. She flinched at the feel of the cold gel, the friendly blonde smiling at her in apology.

“Did you want to know the sex of the baby?” the doctor asked them in a polite conversational tone. The couple glanced at one another and smiled then nodded simultaneously. “We’ll see what we can do.”

Hawk-like, Helena watched the obstetrician move her instrument back and forth over her lover’s abdomen, searching for the best position until at last, something vaguely recognisable appeared on the screen.

“Ah, here we go.” She pushed further to the left and after a moment’s deliberation, paused the image. “This large area here is the head. Here, you can see the shape of an arm.” She unfroze the picture and fiddled with a couple of knobs. “And if we turn up the sound...”

Words floated over the inventor’s head like little more than background noise. The rough monochrome image took some deciphering, but the moment she began to see body parts, it immediately became clear and she found herself gazing at her unborn child in complete awe. Myka’s sudden gasp and tightening grip brought her focus back and she became aware of a rhythmic whooshing sound, like an underwater train running over its tracks.

In her own world of incredulity too, the lanky agent took in the shape of a skull, the curve of a spine and what she knew were tiny limbs. This was what lay inside of her? This miniature human; so oblivious, so defenceless? Unaware that its mother had thought so little of playing loosely with its life? She felt sick.

“And there’s your baby’s heartbeat.” Dr. Klein measured the speed of the beats and made more notes. Then there was a moment when her hand holding the instrument moved and another large white area appeared. “Ah,” she made a non-committal noise.

Myka’s voice trembled slightly as she whispered, “Is that...?” _Oh God._ Having been pre-med, she was used to reading scans and x-rays; she saw the bulbous mass for what it was.

“What is it?” HG asked, puzzled. So entranced was she by the beating rhythm that she was lagging behind on the uptake.

Turning to the confusion on her partner’s face, the American said in a half-believing tone, “It’s another head.”

Helena’s expression lifted in pleasant surprise before she registered the slackening grip on her hand and the uncertainty behind Myka’s eyes. “Twins?” She smiled reassuringly and looked briefly to the doctor for a confirming nod. “I can already imagine the happy-dance waiting for us at home,” she added in an aside to her fiancée.

This brought a tentative smile to the prone agent’s face and temporarily chased away the lingering worry, but through the rest of the examination, she stayed quiet and seemed almost oblivious to the questions she continued to answer.

HG paid extra close attention to their instructions when the doctor informed them that they would try again to sex the twins at the twenty-week scan, and Myka was told that she could get down from the examination table. Dr. Klein gave them some leaflets and their copy of the sonogram still. She then showed them back to the waiting room and wished them well before greeting her next patients.

They walked in silence back to the car, Myka still lost in thought and Helena afraid to ask what was wrong while they were in the middle of a busy city street. The walk didn’t take long though and the moment they were sat in the relative privacy of their vehicle, the inventor turned to her lover, concern written all over her face. She had only just opened her mouth when Myka’s face crumpled and she burst into tears.

Over the gear stick, Helena somehow managed to find a way to wrap her arms around the distraught brunette and held her as she sobbed.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry,” muffled cries came from HG’s chest, where the American had buried her face. “Oh God, Helena; what the hell was I thinking?”

Keeping her arms wrapped securely around her partner, the inventor made soothing noises as she waited for a chance to make herself heard. A hand of icy regret had wrapped itself around her heart and was squeezing. She could only imagine that Myka was experiencing something similar. _You drove her to this,_ a voice taunted in the back of her mind. _Your weakness caused this._

She waited until the expectant woman cried herself out before she began to speak. “I don’t blame you for wanting more than our simple existence. I know this hasn’t been easy for you. A lot has happened over such a short expanse of time.”

“I was selfish,” the brunette’s words erupted scathingly.

“You were frustrated by the restrictions I unwittingly placed on you. We are all selfish on occasion. It does not necessarily need to be a bad thing.” She pulled back slightly to look into green eyes. “I should have listened closer to your desires. I might not then have pushed you into doing something so drastic.”

“You can’t seriously be trying to take the blame for this?” Myka sat up slightly and stared at her lover. “Helena, I made the decision to go to Artie, without consulting you, remember?”

HG ran a hand through her hair. She didn’t want to have this conversation here, but with a long drive back to Univille ahead of them and Christina waiting at their destination, she didn’t have much of a choice. “It wasn’t a well considered plan, I agree. Why didn’t you talk to me before going to Artie?”

Myka turned away slightly. “I didn’t want you to try and stop me,” she admitted.

“Precisely,” the Brit exclaimed in defeated triumph. A few quiet moments passed before green eyes turned back to her and she lifted a hand to cup the side of her fiancée’s face. “I’m sorry too, darling. Neither of us saw this coming. Let’s not apportion blame. We’ve both been suffering a touch of myopia. We both have regrets. Shall we waste time making more?”

A short bark of relieved laughter filled the car for a split second and Helena smiled coyly. Their eyes met and Myka was reminded of the numerous occasions when the historical Brit had effortlessly brought a ray of hope and peace to her troubled mind. Often with just a few words and that look.

“Fine,” the American muttered ruefully. “You’re right.” Her eyes closed for a moment and she took a few deep breaths, opening them only when she felt the press of lips against her own. She watched Helena withdraw, then, after a beat, close the gap again. Better prepared this time, Myka met her fiancée half way.

No matter that it’d only been two days since the last time they’d indulged their desire for one another, it felt like a lifetime had passed. While at odds, there had been no fleeting touches, no shared looks that spoke volumes, no ‘just because’ kisses in passing. In short, no contact to sate the constant desire that each felt for the other.

The relief of finally confronting their issues came over them like a tidal wave. Pete would have called their sudden passion ‘make up smoochies’, but that felt too common to Myka. Helena was an extension of her own existence and when they were separated, it was as if a part of her soul was missing. This physical expression of their love was a vital part of that connection and had to be obeyed.

Lost in their shared world, oblivious to the attention they were attracting from the occasional passerby, the couple parted reluctantly.

Green eyes sparkling now with something other than tears, Myka stroked the side of the inventor’s face, smiling as she remembered how fortunate she was to have someone like Helena in her life. “I think it’s time we started to head back home, don’t you? I wouldn’t want to be caught in a parking lot with you doing more than kissing.” Her eyes swept over the Brit longingly before she added, “And I really want to do more than kiss you right now.”

Swallowing an involuntary groan, HG resisted leaning back in, nodded and turned the key in the ignition. “Let us hope there is no traffic police on our way home then; I imagine a car chase would put quite a dampener on our evening.”

 


	10. Chapter 10

Vast swathes of countryside stretched out on each side of the road as Helena steered the car towards home. It was fairly effortless, driving along these large straight roads. Much of her attention was divisible between the journey, her thoughts and the companionable conversation into which, she and Myka had fallen. The tedium though, made her long for the winding country lanes of her homeland; the rich greens and deep, earthy browns; the higgledy-piggledy patchwork of fields behind unkempt hedgerows; the ray of hope backed by brilliant blue, casting its light through brief gaps between majestic castles in the sky.

True, this way was faster, and within a country where a single state could equal the entire length and breadth of England, she admitted that it certainly was more efficient.

Since her initial resistance to the idea of taking Christina back to London for a while and the discussions she and Myka had had at Christmas, Helena had begun to find some pleasure in the thought of ‘going home’. While America had Myka and wherever Myka was, her home would be, she hadn’t completely lost her patriotism. She might no longer be arrogant about the empire (not that it was an empire any longer), but she nurtured a certain about of nostalgia for the place. She missed the sounds of a busy market day, or the smells of the harbour; the quaint buildings that still spoke of a time long passed, or the subtle sense of pride she felt in being part of something old and slightly quirky. She missed the history belonging to her ancestors and the lure of a time when anything had seemed possible.

_Still, long, straight roads are good for other things too_ , she smiled to herself as she stroked her thumb over the back of her lover’s hand. With eyes mostly on the road, she missed the glow from her grandmother’s ring.

Myka Bering. How on Earth had she managed to find such a person? Almost half a year after their adventures in Paris, the young ex-bookshop dweller had turned her life around; brought peace, contentment and happiness back to her, and helped her find her confidence once more. She was an angel, surely?

“Thank you,” Helena heard herself say unexpectedly.

Myka, who had been lost in her own thoughts for a while as she gazed at the side of her fiancée’s head, frowned a little behind a smile. “What for?”

The shock of realisation, brought on by their visit to the obstetrician, had begun to wear off and in the aftermath of her mini-breakdown, a tiny weight had lifted from her shoulders. A piece of her life finally seemed to be fitting into place where previously, it had resisted. Assurance, that had deserted her after the fiasco with Inanna, was making a timid return, and it was good to feel some control return with it.

“I want to say ‘for everything’ but perhaps that’s too clichéd,” HG began, returning the smile. She considered her bursting gratitude for a moment before continuing. “Darling, six months ago, I thought I had found a way to exist alone in this world and was almost convinced that I could live my life that way.” She pictured the small, two-bedroom house in Rapid City and knew that the only time she’d been happy there was during their turbulent weekend of the fairground incident. There, they had made love for the first time, renewing their physical relationship and solidifying the start of a lifelong commitment. Before that weekend though, she had lived there in a cycle of routine tasks that she performed with barely any emotion. “It’s only now that I realise how empty my life was. I should have returned to you a long time ago. I considered it many times. I was afraid of what I’d do if things didn’t turn out for the best.”

Rather than thinking of the Warehouse 2 and Yellowstone incidents, Myka cast her mind back to the years after, where she had known so little of the inventor’s day-to-day existence but knew enough to understand that it had been a struggle for the Brit. “I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. You’re much stronger than you think, Helena.”

“Hmm, perhaps,” she conceded grudgingly, sending a coy smile Myka’s way. She revelled in the small chuckled that followed before her expression softened. “Not as strong as I am with you by my side though. I think you underestimate your influence; how much your simple presence makes every day easier.”

“Dito,” the lanky agent responded as she gave Helena’s hand an extra squeeze.

A comfortable silence sat between them for several minutes after that, both women content to enjoy the peaceful atmosphere as the countryside continued to race by outside.

Feeling the fatigue of the last couple of days pull heavily against her eyelids, Myka leant her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. With the lessening turmoil of emotions she’d been experiencing recently, there was a budding clarity to her thoughts. It seemed absurd that she should have become so lost in her head while pursuing the routine of family life. Most days spent at home were filled with the simple tasks of keeping Christina entertained and the house relatively in order. There were a few hours in the middle of the day, where she would shut herself in the study and pour over reports from the Warehouse, using every resource available to help her colleagues in the field. Through most of the week, she took her work to the Warehouse and sat in the library there or else remained in the office, watching her fellow agents pass by on occasion to deliver something to the chasm of artefacts.

With this memory, she felt the bitter sting of resentment and a familiar but hereto unstudied swell of uselessness. When had these resentful thoughts begun and why hadn’t she recognised them for what they were before now? It seemed so obvious in hindsight; of course she would feel jealous of her fellow agents when they were allowed to go where she wasn’t. Since her initial scepticism, she had been proud that she, out of millions of others, had been singled out, trusted, to marshal the dangerous objects coming in and out of the Warehouse. She had finally felt special. She had finally found her worth. Now?

She wasn’t happy with the way she’d handled things; not only for deliberately keeping her plans from her partner, but for allowing everyone to dictate what she could and couldn’t do in the first place. Yes, she had agreed with their concerns, but in hindsight, she felt like she should have fought harder for responsibilities to replace those she was giving up. She made a mental note to discuss this with her colleagues and Helena when there was time.

_Damn it, Myka! How could you let your frackin’ pride come between you and HG?_ There was a brief moment when she felt like crying again, and then she heard that voice replay in her mind and couldn’t help but smile. _My conscience sounds just like Claudia._

Unsure when exactly she’d opened her eyes, Myka chuckled and heard a curious ‘what?’ from beside her. “It’s nothing,” she said soothingly. “Or at least, it’s nothing important, just Claudia in my head.”

“Ah, that explains a great deal,” Helena responded with a raised eyebrow. “Should I be worried that Claudia is in your head?”

“You can worry when I start calling you HG dude or Super HG.” She watched the wheels turning behind those dark eyes for a moment and chuckled again as Helena’s expression turned sour.

“For the sake of my sanity, please do not refer to me in any manner that would make you sound like Claudia.” Her serious expression flicked between Myka, who continued to smile warmly, and the road before them. “I enjoy hearing the sound of my name on your lips.”

“You enjoy many things on my lips,” the brunette retorted readily, smiling wider at the rare flush that crept suddenly along pale cheeks.

“That is very true,” the inventor agreed slowly. She glanced at her lover long enough to see the mischief in those green eyes and appreciate the light-heartedness of her expression. It was always an enjoyable moment when she could make the woman of her dreams happy, but with Myka’s moods in random flux lately, she was reluctant to take this playful demeanour at face value. The weight of recent events couldn’t be so easily abandoned. _However, you do have to admit that today was a revelation for her. It’s entirely possible that she’s resolved whatever conflict has haunted her, though doubtful that it’ll be so easy._

Free to let her gaze linger over the Brit, Myka watched the battle of thoughts play out over her fiancée’s face and felt the atmosphere in the car gradually change. She continued to smile slightly, but it was with a reluctant acceptance this time. It would be so easy to flirt and joke, avoiding the discussion, or perhaps, the beginning of many discussions they needed to have.

“I’m ok, Helena.” Myka saw self-doubt cast a shadow over her lover’s features and felt guilty again for her ill-considered actions. _It wasn’t just me though,_ an irritated voice piped up from somewhere deep inside. _Let’s not forget who took it upon herself to force you out, with Artie’s help._ She pushed the thought away unconsciously, not wanting to study it entirely. “It was never about not wanting to be with you or being unhappy,” she began to explain as best she could; only just beginning to understand her own motivation. She was accustomed to owning her mistakes and knew she’d made one by letting her feelings fester. “Yes, I’m annoyed when you replace every snack I reach for with one of your sugar-free alternatives, but then I remember why it’s necessary and I appreciate how I need that supplement to my own limited will-power. If the roles were reversed, I know damn well I’d be doing the same thing to you. I’ve fallen into some really bad habits after living with Pete for so long. I won’t say that I like being told what I can and can’t eat, but I want what’s best for our little one...” she paused and they exchanged a knowing look. “Little ones, too. Whether I like it or not, I need you to be tough with me on occasion.”

Frowning, Helena appeared uncomfortable with this idea. “Where do I draw the line? Myka, I understand that you miss being an active agent and that the majority of your dissatisfaction is associated with being ‘benched’,” she hesitated over the phrasing, pulling the word from her bank of modern slang. “I do not wish to compound the issue by continuing to restrict your choices at home. You cannot ask me to knowingly irritate you.” She glanced to her right for a brief moment and caught the sardonically raised eyebrow. She shook her head ruefully. “You know very well why I tease you on other occasions. The two do not equate to the same thing. There needs to be balance and I do not believe we have that at the moment.”

Myka thought for a few quiet minutes as the Victorian continued to steer them home. _What more do I need from her?_ She wracked her brain, searching for the source of her discontent. She was so used to asking herself ‘ _what can I give?’_ that she struggled to find her true desires amongst her simple need to please. It was difficult to separate her hormone-induced whims from her true feelings. She thought back to that brief period when they moved in together and there was no hint of considering more children in the future. What had she wanted then?

_I was ready to give everything up for a normal life. Why should that have changed? What could be more normal than having a baby and planning a wedding?_ Searching her feelings, she began to recall the life she had imagined and finally concluded that it had been very similar to the one she currently lived. If she was already on track, why did it not feel right? “I’m not normal though,” she muttered to herself.

“Is that what you want? To be normal?” HG frowned, overhearing the quiet declaration. “I was rather under the impression that you were beginning to resent the normal aspects of your life.”

“I don’t resent you,” Myka countered, sounding hurt. “Helena... Do I make it seem like I resent our life together?”

HG hesitated just long enough to erase all sign of happiness from Myka’s expression. “No, love,” she answered eventually. “But I worry that, if things continue as they are, you will begin to. I realise you’ve tolerated a lot from me and...”

“Pull over.” Myka interrupted abruptly, fierceness behind her tone.

Concerned eyes turned on the American. “Pardon?”

“Pull over, Helena. Now.”

Hesitantly, the inventor did as she was told, manoeuvring off the quiet highway, onto the rough verge. She hesitated a moment and then turned the engine off. Twisting to her left, Myka was already gazing intently at her. For a moment she feared that she had undone the afternoon’s progress, bringing them back to where they’d been the night before. Her confidence dipped as she considered what her lover could possibly have to say to her that required her full attention, but then hands were holding firmly to each side of her face and warm lips were meeting her own for a brief but intense kiss.

“I love you,” Myka whispered ardently. As she gazed into the depths of Helena’s soul, she found the words she’d been searching for come tumbling out. “I don’t know what I’m feeling half the time. I’m being pulled in so many directions. I’m a mother, but not quite; a wife in all but name; a daughter without parental support; a sister to a sibling I barely know and an agent under restriction. You... and Christina are a constant amidst all that. At the risk of also sounding clichéd, you’re my rock.” Feeling another small weight tumble off her shoulders, she let her grip relax and her hands slide down to meet the Victorian’s. “I don’t tolerate you and I hope you never tolerate me. We’ve adapted... Are still adapting, that’s all.”

Staring silently at their joined hands, HG listened to those words repeated in her head. “I want to believe that, darling. I do believe that you mean what you’re saying.”

“But?”

“Perhaps ‘tolerate’ wasn’t the right word. You have put an extraordinary amount of effort into helping me to overcome my fears and I will be eternally grateful for that. A few short months ago, I could not have left Christina with anyone for long. I could barely leave her asleep while still in the same building. I won’t say that it’s easy to let her go, but it’s not the strain it was and that’s mostly down to you.” It was difficult to focus on the short period after they’d found Christina. She’d been so afraid of losing her daughter again that most of it was a blur. “I can’t help but think that you must have sacrificed a lot to get me here and perhaps I missed the signs when you really needed support.”

The American agent tried to soften her tone; it was becoming clear that there were many things they needed to discuss. “How can you think that you haven’t supported me? Even when you were feeling the strain, you recognised my need to return to work. When we found out about the baby, you talked me through our options, though I know the only thing you wanted to do was to keep it.”

“Your decision wasn’t coloured by knowing that?” Helena worried, not for the first time.

Myka shook her head, smiling a little. “You would have supported me no matter what I chose. I knew that. Knowing what you wanted gave me the confidence to choose this path.” Pausing for a moment, she sighed into her seat and felt some of that fierce energy drain away. “I’m scared. Sometimes I long for a time when I didn’t have this huge responsibility hovering over me, but that doesn’t mean I would change my decision to continue with the pregnancy,” she confessed. Her thoughts turned to the sonogram and the horror she’d felt at knowing she’d almost endangered her children. “You were right; I didn’t appreciate what I would be risking by going back into the field. I thought it would be simple and I thought it would help me to feel more like me again.” She shrugged and whispered, “Whoever I am.”

HG let her lover simmer in her thoughts for a few minutes as she mulled over those last words. It had been such a long time since her pregnancy with Christina so it took a while for her to recall what she’d felt at the time. Fear had been a significant part; her symptoms had appeared almost out of nowhere. One day she’d been happily pursuing science and literature with some new acquaintances and hunting down artefacts for the Warehouse, the next it seemed, she was being told that her changing body rhythms were a sign that she was expecting.

“Who do you want to be?”Helena probed at last. She wanted to help, to draw conclusions from her partner’s thoughts but without leading her.

Now leaning firmly against her seat, the brunette shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“Perhaps that is what’s really bothering you,” the inventor hypothesised, an eyebrow raised in thought.

Silence stretched around them as thoughts swirled behind forest-green. “Maybe...” She mumbled at last. “Sometimes I feel like I’m in one of those dreams that keep going round in circles and I can’t wake up.” Her mouth pursed and eyebrows drew together with distaste. “God, that sounds awful. Why can’t I just be content with the life I have? I’m happy with you; I love our life together, so why do I keep feeling this urge to... jump ship?”

Trying not to be overly hurt by these words; Myka was clearly struggling to articulate her feelings and it would be easy to misinterpret them; HG tried another angle. “I don’t know, darling. Perhaps domestic life doesn’t appeal to you after all.”

“It did a couple of months ago,” Myka responded stubbornly.

The Victorian heard a slight edge of petulance that reminded her of their daughter and decided to pursue this train of thought. “Before you had really experienced it. You are allowed to change your mind.” She lifted her left hand to smooth out lines of worry and confusion, and then stroked her digits down a long arm before reuniting their hands.

“Being domestic is part of the package.” The lanky agent explained with a margin of calm back in her tone. “Christina needs it and I think you do too, now that you have her back.”

“What do _you_ need?” Helena probed further.

The response was instant and adamant. “I need you. Both of you.”

“Besides that?” the inventor continued to push.

“I don’t know.”

“Myka...”

“I don’t know!” Suddenly, Myka pushed herself into a rigid sitting position, one of her hands falling consequently from her partner’s grip. “I need to not feel fat and useless!” She cried in frustration, and then immediately looked to her companion to gage her response. “Don’t you dare laugh,” she warned, seeing the incredulous humour behind dark mahogany.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Helena bit her tongue for a brief moment of further control before adding, “You are beautiful and far from useless. I don’t mean to find you amusing, but the idea that anyone, least of all you, could think of you as either... Well, it’s farcical. I have said it many times before and I will keep saying it; you are radiant and brilliant.” Making a mental note to return to the issue of body image later, HG steered them in a different direction; toward a topic that she had thought about before when contemplating the mystery that was sometimes Myka Bering. “Darling, what made you pursue life with the Secret Service? Why didn’t you continue with law or medicine?”

Still reabsorbing the phenomenon, that an exotic creature like Helena could possibly find her attractive, Myka responded haltingly, digging into long forgotten thoughts. “Honestly? I wanted my dad to be proud of me but worry about me at the same time. He was always pushing me to do more, be better. Protecting the President gave him something to brag about, but he still never gave the impression that he really cared or approved,” she added bitterly.

“Would you have been happy, do you think, being a doctor or a lawyer?” Helena wondered aloud.

“I think so.” Myka shrugged, and then smiled ruefully, “I like protecting people.”

“And you do it so well,” HG added, thinking back to the many times she’d seen her fiancée in action. “You also enjoyed the danger and adventure with the Secret Service.”

Awkwardly, the brunette shifted in her seat. She had found her niche with combat and logistics, feeling proud to climb the ranks above her peers, especially above the men she worked with daily. If she regretted anything about becoming involved with Sam, it was knowing deep down that others might think she was sleeping her way to the top. “Yes. I’d never thought of myself as a thrill seeker before; I was just a geeky, awkward kid.”

“Do you think it’s possible that you also liked the power attached to the position?”

“...”

Myka instinctively wanted to say no, but couldn’t get the words out. They were dipping into her darkest thoughts now, a place that she didn’t like to visit, where she kept all the pain of her youth, her guilt for Sam’s death... the sting of Helena’s betrayal and the bitter-sweet memories of their first few passionate encounters. That place was for issues she had already dealt with and put away to forget. Had she enjoyed the power of her position? The answer was of course, yes. It was the reasons behind that emphatic answer that she was reluctant to study too closely.

Helena allowed the quiet contemplation for a few moments before continuing aloud with her thought process. “I don’t want to lead your thoughts in any particular direction; I don’t profess to be a psychiatrist, but forgive me love, it seems fairly obvious that for much of your life, you’ve been struggling to hold onto control and independence, yet at the same time, trying to impress your father and a few significant others.”

“Are you saying that I’m conditioned to impress other people?”

“I’m not trying to say anything, love. I’m just trying to help you reach your own conclusions by offering you my opinion. I think you are a strong, vibrant, passionate and loving individual who could have her pick of the world, people and careers. I consider myself very fortunate to be the one you’ve chosen to spend your life with, and I’ve no doubt that you still want to be with me,” she added firmly. “It’s what you think that matters now. I don’t want you to always feel lost on a rollercoaster of emotion, and I don’t want you to feel restricted by our domestic life. I want to support your ambitions just as much as I want to keep you safe.”

“You enjoy having me at home,” Myka stated, mildly aware that she was illustrating her need to please again.

“Of course I do,” Helena assured her lover, an edge of exasperation creeping into her tone. “I love having you around, but it’s not worth toffee if you’re not content to be there.”

Probing gently, the lanky agent continued, “What about your ambitions? I know you’d love to start a bigger project.”

“Eventually, yes,” Helena admitted.

“So you’ll need me around to help more with the kids,” Myka voiced an assumption she’d been sitting on.

“Possibly, but darling, we’ll discuss that when and if it becomes necessary.” Remembering to keep her tone calm, the Brit took her time answering. “You seem to be labouring under the impression that I will refuse to let you do anything. I know I’ve been a tad overzealous with some things recently but I hope I’ve never given you the idea that I expect you to give up work entirely, or work solely from home because you’re pregnant.”

“Helena, you’ve indicated plenty that you’d prefer I didn’t go to the Warehouse. Since we got engaged you’ve asked me eight times if I could work from home. How else am I supposed to interpret that?” Myka knew she was reaching into that dark corner of her mind again, pulling out thoughts that she’d previously dismissed, but though it was uncomfortable, she began to realise that it might be necessary to air out these thoughts.

Groaning, the inventor ran a free hand through her hair. Had it really been that often? That was at least twice a week. _Is it a wonder that she’s feeling so restrained?_ “Myka, I’m sorry. I didn’t appreciate how it would seem from your perspective. I simply wished for you to spend less time near to the artefacts, not to stop working altogether. My objections are in direct correlation to the amount of danger you are in, not to how much time you spend away from home.” She reached for her partner’s other hand again as she gazed at the brunette in earnest. “If you want to take up a job where you spend eight hours a day out of the house or take the occasional business trip, I will do my best to support you, so long as you’re happy and healthy.”

Myka closed her eyes and absorbed those words. ... _in direct correlation to the amount of danger you are in._ Helena simply wanted her to be safe, how could that be a bad thing? She was hanging onto the Warehouse. Why? Was it the power, the adventure, the danger even? Many of the most significant events of her life had taken place there, including some of her first few meetings with Helena. It was a part of her, and yet... There _was_ a world of opportunity around them. Did her future have to include being an agent? Was it possible to find satisfaction elsewhere?

“I don’t like being so uncertain,” she whispered at last. “What will I do if I’m not an agent? How am I supposed to carry on, knowing that there are artefacts everywhere?”

Returning a hand to her lover’s face, HG smiled in sympathy. “It’s not easy, and there are times when there isn’t a choice; artefacts sometimes find me whether I like it or not. I don’t think the Warehouse lets go of its agents very easily. At least, not before it moves location.”

“If it moves, I’ll have to find something else to do anyway,” Myka thought aloud.

Helena shrugged. “Most likely. The Regents will choose agents from the new country, though I do not know if they will still accept freelance work.”

“Somehow, I get the impression that they like to wipe the slate clean.” She felt her eyelids become heavy and glanced at her watch. “Damn, we’ve been here ages.” She sat up in a sudden panic and looked around to notice the sky darkening, the orange sun kissing the horizon in preparation for the embrace of nightfall. “Christina will start to worry if we don’t get going soon.”

“In a moment,” the inventor stressed calmly. She kept her eyes on her partner, waiting for her favourite shade of green to focus on her. “I just want to be clear before we continue on our way. Darling, you are not powerful because you’re a Warehouse agent. You’re powerful because you refuse to surrender when the situation appears most dire. I will always be living proof of that, should you require a reminder.” She smiled gently and was gratified to receive a small one in return. “I realise that the speed at which your life is changing is beginning to catch up to you and that you’re unsure if you are able to meet the challenges ahead, but there is no need to rush into anything. I’m sorry if you feel like I’m holding you back,” she added soberly.

Letting her head fall gently against her fiancée’s, Myka held back a fresh wave of tears. “I don’t, Helena. Honestly. It’s just that, I think when I’m scared or frustrated,” she began haltingly, the words seeping into her thoughts with hesitation as she tried to understand why she had behaved rashly over the past couple of weeks. “It’s easier to fall back into old habits. I know I’m a good agent, Secret Service or Warehouse, but this,” she placed a hand over her barely expanding belly and sighed. “I want so badly to be good at this but I just don’t know if I can.”

HG felt a hundred words of reassurance tingle on the tip of her tongue but held them back. She stroked her fingers through increasingly wild hair and looked into hope-filled depths. “Darling, I think this may be one of those things that you have to experience to believe. There is no doubt in my mind that you will be just as wonderful with these two as you are with Christina. There is a certain amount of guesswork involved in caring for an infant but then much becomes routine. I’ve no doubt that you will soon be as adept as any competent parent once you’re having to do it daily. You are an amazingly rapid learner. In the meantime,” she added, thinking of the months ahead, before the twins were born. “We will simply have to find more hobbies to keep you occupied, and perhaps consider what you might do if you were to decide on a career change.”

Myka smiled against Helena’s cheek as she leant back in to bask in her closeness and felt another pebble sized weight fall from her shoulders. “That sounds like a good start.”

The confused brunette slept the rest of the way home, waking only when they pulled up outside the bed and breakfast and Helena finally tugged their hands apart.

Christina was waiting on the couch between Claudia and Leena, looking like she had been warned that her parents would be tired and that she needed to tone down the exuberance. The slight bounce in her posture brought identical smiles to Helena and Myka’s faces and they welcomed the eight year old between them as they sat on the smaller couch opposite. Before the girl could open her mouth, HG produced the sonogram still with a flourish and handed it to her first-born.

As she studied the image, Christina’s expression drew increasingly confused. She turned it 360 degrees in her hands to gaze at the monochrome shapes. “It doesn’t look like the ones I’ve seen in my books,” she bemoaned. “It almost looks like it has two heads.”

Helena shared a look with Myka and grinned. They both glanced surreptitiously at the adults across the room and nodded at their expressions of happy surprise. They waited another minute, until Christina looked up at their expectant faces.

“Are there two heads?” She finally asked in confusion.

Deciding to put the girl out of her misery, Myka tangled her fingers in curly locks and placed a kiss on her crown. “Yes Sweetheart. How do you feel about having two siblings?”

Realisation dawned quickly behind dark brown eyes and the young girl turned sharply to stare at her parents. “Twins!?” She exclaimed at three times her normal volume.

Helena nodded stiffly; she could barely keep her bursting joy at bay. The emotion behind her daughter’s eyes was enough to bring tears of happiness to her own and she reached for Myka’s hand without thinking, the immediate warmth and comfort that shot through her from the brief touch of warm metal was no longer a point of confusion.

After reciting all the information from their obstetrician’s appointment, Myka excused herself to go to the bathroom and on her way back, found herself wandering into the kitchen, alone. She fetched herself a glass of water and sat down at the island.

She smiled at the chatter that floated in from the still excited voices in the communal room and then sighed. It had been a long day, but a rewarding one. So many things to think about but her head still felt like a mess of thoughts and emotions. She wasn’t used to having an untidy brain and it was frustrating having to wade through the quagmire of voices telling her what to think and how to feel.

A couple of new thoughts sat in prominent position though, letting her peruse them at her will. She was having, not one, but two babies, and Helena didn’t expect her to want to be a stay at home mom. Certainly, the inventor had admitted that she liked that idea, but only if it was something Myka wanted, there was no pressure to make any solid decisions.

From this knowledge, she found a whole host of questions waiting for her. Was she permanently attached to being a Warehouse agent or, like she had a couple of months ago, would she consider the possibility of finding satisfaction in another job? Perhaps in another town, another country? For a moment she tried to picture her family moving through America, Europe, possibly Asia; exploring and adventuring in their own small way. The idea had appeal, even if it was just a fantasy.

Where did she picture herself living if she decided to settle in one place? In Colorado or Wyoming, close to her family? Would she follow her Warehouse family wherever they decided to settle? What about Helena’s roots? There was a lot of history in Britain. Or should they choose somewhere altogether new to all of them, but perhaps still a little like home, Canada maybe?

What about schooling for the kids? Were they content to home school? Would Helena have enough time for three of them or would Myka need to be at home more for their education? Could she imagine herself doing that, now that it wasn’t an idea she felt forced into? Would they consider hiring a tutor or find a good local school?

Helena had been the one to suggest that she let her imagination have its head a little, to listen to her deepest desires so she would have a clearer understanding of what she wanted out of life. Already she was beginning to picture the many different scenarios and discarding those she knew to be unsuitable, but this was a task that could not be complete in one afternoon; she would have to make a record of these musings somehow, so she could read over them at a later date, before talking to her fiancée again.

Quiet footsteps approached from just beyond her peripheral vision and Myka turned to watch her beautiful partner approach. She saw familiar concern darkening those classic features and smiled, reaching out a hand to welcome and comfort. Pulling the inventor to her, she buried her face in the pleasant warmth of a supplicant shoulder and neck, breathing in one of her favourite scents.

“You look tired, love,” HG observed cautiously. After their long car conversation, she was very aware of not being overly protective or smothering, but as Myka tightened her hold, she relaxed.

“I am. I don’t think I’ll be ravishing you as I wanted to a few hours ago,” the American mumbled apologetically.

Helena chuckled and pulled away so she could look down into weary eyes. “You can write me an I.O.U. I’ll collect payment some other time, perhaps with interest,” she pressed her lips lovingly to Myka’s, swallowing her response. “Come along, darling.” She took the brunette’s hands and pulled her gently to her feet. “I’m taking you to bed, even if it is only to sleep.”

Wrapping a grateful arm around HG’s middle, Myka let herself be led from the bed and breakfast. This time, in full appreciation for her lover’s caring nature, without the irritated voice in the back of her mind demanding shrilly that she was a grown woman capable of walking a few hundred yards down the road. She made no comment about leaving the car at Leena’s, and simply leant into her partner’s embrace, content to be safe in her arms.

 


	11. Chapter 11

Sitting up in bed, knees pulled tight against her chest, Myka listened to one-half of the conversation coming from the en-suite bathroom.

Four days had passed since her ultrasound. Hesitation and uncertainty lingered in their touches at first, guilt on both sides made them slower to reach out, made them cautious. Emotions remained high and the artefact hung over their heads; an ominous shadow that threatened to smash what they were working so hard to build. Though ninety-six hours wasn’t very long, they were making more time to discuss underlying issues, not just floating along with the calm after the storm and the occasional argument was unavoidable. Still, they kept at it. No matter how much love they shared; no matter that destiny might be on their side, relationships took work and dedication and they were determined to make theirs one for the ages.

With the extra effort, Myka was just starting to feel relaxed and confident again, when the call came in.

HG’s muffled English accent carried the American’s worst fear through to the bedroom. “What time does our flight leave?... Mmhm, of course... Wouldn’t Steve pick up the file? I could just as well read all the information during the flight. I’d rather not wake Christina in the middle of the night if I don’t have to... Very well, if it must be... I will see you in an hour.”

Hearing the faint sigh that followed the end of the call, Myka panicked. She could feel the tears pricking at the backs of her eyes and refused to give in to the conflict between the self-pity that so often accompanied her guilt, and the anger she had tried to conquer towards Helena, for going behind her back. It was bad enough that her lover had to leave because of her lack of forethought; she wasn’t going to let the Brit see her cry over this anymore.

_You helped to make this bed Myka, now you’ve got to lie in it._

Leaving the sheets rumpled, she slipped on her robe and tiptoed out onto the landing, heading for the stairs. Meanwhile, Helena stood in front of the bathroom mirror, giving herself a much-needed pep talk.

“This is not as it once was. You are no longer seeking thrills, glory and adventure while leaving Christina with the first available baby sitter,” she whispered. “It will be beneficial for the two of them to spend a few days together.” She gripped the sink a little harder; there was an uncomfortable tightening in her stomach that made her wish she hadn’t eaten so late the evening before. “You’re doing this _for_ them, not despite them.”

Aware that Myka had likely been woken by the call, though she had tried to be discrete by taking the conversation into the en-suite, Helena gathered herself and returned to the bedroom. The mused, empty bed was not unexpected but the sight of it made her worry.

Myka had shown great willing to share more of her minor grievances since their return from the obstetrician, which had eased some of the tension between them. She went to the Warehouse more often to work but returned in a better mood each day, often with one anecdote or another regarding the other agents and the tight spots they got themselves into.

Helena had a feeling that this trip had the potential to either strengthen their relationship or set them back a few steps and though she regretted her actions, she couldn’t bring herself to put the ball back in Myka’s court for fear that something terrible would happen to her. It was an issue that they continued to play tug of war with. Thankfully, much of the time, her partner was happier to revisit pleasanter topics.

Last night, their post lovemaking pillow-talk had drifted into baby territory and Myka had actually pushed the conversation along, asking Helena about her favourite names, making mental notes of furniture they needed and discussing birthing options.

Though the lanky agent had never been outright negative about her pregnancy, she had very rarely brought up the topic of conversation herself, and often changed the subject when anyone began asking for specifics.

She had professed many times that she was happy with the situation, but there had been a definite reluctance on her behalf to make plans for the new arrival, as if by avoiding the topic, she could delay the outcome.

It was a relief to see the excitement behind those expressive green eyes without the accompanying fear that often darkened the American’s gaze.

After a brief shower, Helena grabbed the carry-on suitcase that Myka had insisted on preparing for her and pulled her travelling clothes on. Across the hall, she crept into Christina’s room and sank slowly onto the edge of the bed. Leaning down, she kissed her daughter’s temple and whispered her name.

“Mummy?” Sleep-filled eyes cracked open and tried to focus on the adult. “Is it morning already?”

“No my love. I have to go away for a few days and I couldn’t leave without a hug and a kiss from my big girl.” HG smiled softly as she touched her index finger to a petite nose.

Christina sat up and wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck. “Did Grandpa Artie call?” The girl asked, recalling the conversation they’d had at the weekend regarding this very scenario.

“Yes. I need to be at the Warehouse soon and then I’ll be catching a flight with Pete and Steve to California.” She stroked the wild locks from Christina’s face and kept her expression carefully calm as she continued. “I will call as often as I can and hopefully we’ll be back together before you know it. In the meantime, you and Mama are going to enjoy some time together.”

“Ok, Mummy,” the eight year old yawned. It had been a long time since her mother had gone away but she remembered it well and was easily consoled. “I’ll take care of Mama for you.”

“I know you will my darling. You’re both in good hands.” Helena encouraged her daughter to lie back down and tucked the blankets around her once more. “Sleep well my love,” she kissed her repeatedly, until a tiny giggle reached her ears and she relented, stroking wavy curls until dark eyes disappeared behind heavy lids.

The Victorian found her fiancée in the kitchen, cradling a mug of raspberry leaf tea and gazing out the window into the murky dark of night.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, Myka turned to face the Brit, a resigned smile painting her lips, masking the turmoil within. “So...” she began, her voice tripping over the word. Clearing her throat, she placed her mug to one side and stepped into her lover’s arms. “You’ll be fine,” she started again, with more confidence than she felt. “And so will we. After breakfast tomorrow, I thought we’d mix a little science and baking. I’ve packed some of your snack bars from the freezer,” she stepped out of the Brit’s arms and brought a zip-lock bag back to her, fussing over the fastening and not meeting the dark gaze she could feel observing her. “Just in case you don’t have a chance to stop and eat.” She was aware that she was talking too much but couldn’t stop. “Claudia is going to pop round everyday to keep me up to date, so if you forget to tell me something over the phone, you can pass it on through her, or I suppose you could tell any of the others, I’ll probably see them everyday anyway.” Her fingers played with Helena’s collar as her concern filled eyes finally met her lover’s. “But don’t worry about us, just keep your wits about you, and promise you’ll stay safe because if anything happens to you...”

“Myka,” Helena’s voice was gentle yet firm as she took the brunette’s face between her hands. With a simple look of love and devotion, HG brought their lips together, her kiss full of promise.

Agent Bering whimpered into the embrace and pulled the inventor impossibly close, her hands bunching the lapels of HG’s winter jacket; the one Myka had given her for Christmas. She wanted the kiss to last forever but knew that it wouldn’t and soon had to pull back for air. Her stomach churned with a mixture of fear and anger, her knuckles turning white as the ire began to win out and her grip tightened. Jaw clenched with the effort to keep a string of fear-fuelled words at bay, Myka looked up to stare hard into Helena’s chocolate orbs.

“We’ve been talking more, which is good, Helena. We’re going to make this work, our way, no matter how long it takes,” she began fiercely, nothing but love filling her voice before her expression changed to display the emotion she was holding at bay. “But I haven’t forgotten what we both did to get here. You’re leaving in the middle of the night because we went behind each other’s back. That can’t happen again, do you understand me? I should have talked to you, I know that, but ultimately, it was my choice to make. I don’t care if you think it’s for my own good, you can’t just take decisions away from me.”

Helena swallowed hard as she fell into Myka’s intense gaze. The fury she found there made her knees weak with desire, reminiscent of the first time she’d come face to face with the determined agent, at gun point. She knew her partner was strong, had told the statuesque agent this many times, but seeing it erupting on the surface was a rare thing to behold and she was more than a little impressed.

“I understand, darling. No more underhand tactics to keep you safe. I will endeavour to respect your decisions.” Her tone was filled with contrition for the seriousness of the topic, but after a moment of thought, a sly glint appeared in her smile and she looked up through her eyelashes. “Do not think for one second that I will give up easily though. Do you consider bribery to be underhand? I am not above using my body to get what I want with you, Agent Bering.” Their figures were pressed so close together that HG’s last words were whispered into the hinge of a jaw, eliciting another desperate sound from her lover.

With monumental effort, Myka disentangled herself from her partner and gave her a half hearted push towards the door, effectively ending the teasing.

“I’ll bring back a souvenir,” the Brit attempted to joke as she grabbed her bag. Steve was giving her a lift to the Warehouse so she didn’t need her car keys.

“Just come back. I love you,” Myka replied, in no mood to make fun of the situation.

Face serious again, Helena leant in for a final quick kiss and whispered, “I will, darling. I love you too,” before pulling open the door and disappearing into the night.

* * * * *

Having known that a pity party was out of the question with and energetic eight-year-old to entertain the following day, Myka took her tepid tea up to bed after Helena’s departure. However, though she stubbornly stayed prone beneath the sheets, sleep came in teasing fits so that, by morning, she was fighting to wake and rise.

After several failed attempts to throw back the covers, Myka heard the tell-tale sound of bare feet on carpet and smiled despite her sombre mood. When a curious face appeared in front of her, she shuffled back into the bed, making room for her young visitor.

Christina crawled into her parents’ bed and snuggled into her Mama’s arms. “What shall we do today?” she asked into Myka’s neck.

Enjoying the comfort of the warm body lying against her flank, Myka hummed into hair that smelled of grapefruit shampoo. “I wondered if you wanted to make a pizza and eat it while watching a movie tonight? We can experiment with the yeast to see how it makes the dough rise.”

Christina’s expression was comical as she turned over onto her front and looked down into the adult’s green eyes. “Mummy doesn’t like us to eat lots of pizza,” she reminded the agent.

“Mummy doesn’t like us to _order_ too much pizza, and what Mummy doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” she joked. Feeling a tad more energetic, the brunette sat up and began rolling her daughter out of bed. Seeing the sceptical expression looking back at her, she added with a knowing smile, “Try not to look so scandalised Sweetheart, I’m just teasing you. We’ll put lots of fresh meat and veg on our pizza if it’ll make you feel better.” Christina had a protective streak that rivalled her mother’s, but the American found it adorable rather than patronising.

She grabbed an oversized t-shirt and a pair of lounging trousers from her chest of drawers, pulling them over her pants and vest. Determined to survive the next few days without Helena, Myka figured that she might as well enjoy the time alone with their daughter and led the young girl to the kitchen so they could start on breakfast.

Around midday, while the pizza dough proved for a second time, Myka found herself alone in the study, pouring over the case file for the umpteenth time with Claudia updating her over the Farnsworth.

“Any news yet?” Myka asked, trying not to sound desperate already.

Though Helena had left before dawn, her flight hadn’t been scheduled for departure until almost nine o’clock. Any time before that would have been spent preparing at the Warehouse and listening to Artie’s usual lecture about high-profile areas and avoiding the media, which was why the brunette had not let herself begin to worry... yet.

“They’ll be touching down soon. I’ll let you know when they do.” Claudia’s face moved back and forth across the screen as she divided her attention between her friend and her work. “So the hit we got was from a surveillance tape. There wasn’t much of an image; we think the culprit used something high-techy or an artefact to scramble the video feed.”

Frowning as she jotted down a few notes of her own _EMP/artefact?,_ Myka began to search through her internal catalogue of artefacts that she had read about in the Warehouse. “Have you already searched the system to see if anything fits that description?”

“Yeah, and we got a likely hit but it’s still sitting all cosy on its shelf, just twiddling its thumbs,” the red head shrugged her shoulders before returning to her key tapping.

“So we can rule that one out,” the lanky agent agreed slowly, her thoughts searching for another explanation. “There weren’t any listed missing or still out in the world?”

“Nada,” Claudia shook her head with regret. “None that we know of at least. Pete’s taken the durational-spectrometer and HG thinks she can boost the time limit with one of her handy thingy-majigs.” She shook her head with a smile that spoke of her hero worship for the Victorian inventor. “She used something similar when we were looking for you in Paris, but as we don’t know exactly who we’re looking for this time, all it would tell us is that someone was there, and we already know that.”

“But doesn’t it also give an indication of how frequently the target has been in one place? If we can separate our culprit from the security guards and other visitors, it might lead us to what they were looking for. We might also figure out if they were working with an accomplice.”

“All good points Miss. Money-Penny,” the young computer whizz quipped.

Myka rolled her eyes. “If you’re going to insist on giving me a code name for the duration of this mission, can it be someone who wasn’t just a male fantasy?” she begged.

“Money-Penny is more than just...” Seeing the brunette’s hardened stare, the young agent relented. “Ok, ok... Let’s see, you’re back-seating with looks and brains... Willow?”

Smiling at the welcome distraction, Agent Bering gave the appellation some though. After eventually realising who her friend was referring to, her nose wrinkled. “Less vampirey or witchy I think. Besides, you’re the quirky redhead.”

“Yes but you’re the smart, slightly geeky assumed straight girl, turned Rainbow Bright,” Claudia pointed out with a smirk.

“Pass,” Myka insisted, though her friend’s enthusiasm made her chuckle.

“Fine. Just trying to bring some colour into the workplace. How’s CJ holding up?” she asked of her surrogate niece.

The grounded agent smiled a little as she considered her daughter’s demeanour. “Better than me I think. I don’t know what I’d do without her here.” She thought back to their morning together and her expression softened even further. “We’re making pizza and she wants to watch Peter Pan again.”

“While the cat’s away, the mice will play?”

“Christina seemed to think I was taking advantage of Helena’s absence too,” Myka said with a hint of annoyance. “Do you really think I’d do that?” She didn’t wait for an answer, seeing the apology in her friend’s eyes, even through the grainy black and white image. “We made the dough then had a chemistry lesson, and I know how to make a balanced nutritional meal,” she insisted. “I’m not going to start being petulant all of a sudden because Helena’s away and I wanted to go in the first place. It’s better this way. I don’t know why I thought I should do it in the first place. Temporary insanity?”

“You’ve been kicking ass and doing things your own way for years now,” Claudia placated the older agent gently, sensitive to the difficulties she’d been experiencing recently. “It’s not easy to give up what you know; what you worked hard for.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much what Helena said too. No matter the reason, it was a stupid thing to do.” The admission slipped easily off her tongue now, but it still stung.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad we’ve got one of you on the case; we were getting nowhere, even with all the research you were putting in.” There was a bitter edge to her tone, which caught the older agent’s attention.

Myka pushed her regret to one side, focussing on the young whizz kid. “You sound like you’re taking this personally, Claude.”

“It is personal!” The red head griped. “It’s like he/she/they know exactly how to evade me. I’m hacking my fingers to the bone, working more than my usual magic and all I keep getting are the normal pings from the Warehouse. Jinkies, how am I not supposed to take that personally?”

“Is that surprising if they’re using an artefact?” Hearing Claudia’s complaint tugged at her natural sibling instinct and Myka felt duty bound to reassure the computer genius. “It’s not like you can help it if it’s nothing to do with the tech side of things.”

“I dunno...” The redhead struggled with her pride for a moment, though she knew Myka had a point. Still, there was something about this case that pulled at her from the inside and it frustrated her that she couldn’t put her finger on it. “It’s funky; I keep getting this feeling...”

“Related to the case?” The brunette’s voice was suddenly tense again, Helena’s image swimming back into the worry centre of her brain.

“Maybe...” Claudia hesitated. The pull she felt was familiar in a way that set her nerves tingling, like it was coming from the Warehouse. It wasn’t entirely unusual for her to feel the occasional tug of _emotion_ from the large mystical entity, but since HG had set off with Pete and Steve, there was a distinctive edge of excitement in there that worried her. “I think... Nah, can’t be. It’s stupid,” she muttered to herself, shaking off the strange feeling.

Being a big believer in agents trusting their instincts, especially when it came to Warehouse related happenings, Myka picked up the Farnsworth and looked closely at her friend. “Claudia, whatever you’re feeling, don’t just dismiss it. You have a unique bond with the Warehouse. If you know something, it’s worth sharing.”

“Yeah ok, but don’t shoot the messenger...” Pausing to find the right words, the young woman eventually nodded to herself and glanced back at Myka. “I think the Warehouse is in cahoots with our culprit. I think it’s helping them.”

* * * * *

With no luggage to pick up from the ‘wheel o’ bags’ carousel, Helena, Pete and Steve marched right passed their fellow passengers and fast tracked through customs with their government credentials. Outside, Pete stuck his fingers in his mouth and released a high-pitched whistle that brought a passing cab to a halt at their feet. By twelve o’clock Pacific Time Zone, they booked into their hotel rooms and got ready to depart for the props warehouse where their investigation had begun.

In her room, HG tucked her phone between shoulder and ear, listening to the now familiar ringing as she threw a few items in a bag and waited for Myka to pick up.

Though it was she and not her fiancée who was on the frontline of this artefact hunt, that tightness in her stomach had not faded and she was relieved when the call eventually connected.

“Helena?”

“Hello, darling,” the inventor smiled with relief as she zipped her bag closed and perched on the edge of the bed for a moment, eyes closed to better absorb her lover’s voice. “I know I left not nine hours ago, but it’s wonderful to hear you.”

An empathic sigh breezed through the receiver. Helena’s voice was something she would never tire of. _God, what that accent does to me._ “I know what you mean. I tried to sleep after you left but I might as well have got up and done something useful for the amount of rest I got. Have you just arrived at the hotel? Claudia said you landed about forty minutes ago.”

“Yes, and I can only talk for a moment; we’re going to make our way to the props warehouse as soon as possible. Is Christina there? I would like to say a quick hello.”

“I’m way ahead of you,” Myka announced as she hopped the last step onto the landing and walked into the eight-year-old’s bedroom. “Sweetheart, Mummy’s on the phone. She only has a moment so come and say a quick ‘hi’.”

HG heard the shuffling of paper and something heavy. A book? She smiled at the image of her studious child.

As disappointed as she’d been after being released from her bronze prison, to see that mankind was as selfish and cruel as ever, some of the modern innovations had proven very useful. She wouldn’t soon take for granted being able to communicate with her daughter from such a huge distance. One of her biggest regrets from Christina’s early childhood was the amount of time she’d spent away from home on one mission or another. Hearing the girl’s exuberance through her receiver was a balm to her guilt-ridden soul.

“Hello my love,” HG responded to an enthusiastic greeting. “I’m sorry I don’t have much time. I missed seeing your sleepy face and wild bed hair this morning. What have you been doing?”

“Kitchen chemistry,” Christina replied immediately, using the name they’d invented for one of their regular lessons. “We made dough for a pizza and experimented with the yeast. Mama’s going to watch Peter Pan with me when I’ve finished my report!”

The sheer excitement in the girl’s tone made the inventor chuckle. “That sound delightful, love; I wish I could be there. I look forward to reading your thoughts on the subject when I return.” She heard a knock at her door and knew that her time was up. “Christina, love, will you put Mama back on for me?” She slipped her bag over her shoulder, picked up her room’s key-card and moved towards the door.

“Right’o Mummy. I love you,” Christina practically shouted as she passed the phone to the adult in sight, returning to scribbled furiously in her journal.

Smiling fondly at the girl’s enthusiasm, Myka put the phone back to her ear. “You have to go?” she guessed.

“Yes, they’re waiting on me.” She opened the door to acknowledge the men’s presence, but remained a few feet away as she finished her call. “Enjoy your evening, darling. I’ll be with you in thought and I’ll call either when we return to the hotel, or first thing in the morning.”

“I don’t care what time it is, Helena; promise you’ll call when you get in,” Myka pleaded, feeling a sense of impending loss, with too many Helena-free hours ahead of her.

“Myka, you need uninterrupted rest,” the inventor protested gently.

“I’ll rest easier knowing you’re safe,” the brunette countered.

Helena nodded to herself, understanding her lover’s argument. She anticipated a restless night of her own without her fiancée by her side. “Very well, love. I will call once I’m back at the hotel, regardless of the hour. I love you, darling. Give our girl a kiss for me.”

“I will. Love you too, Helena.”

Burying the echo of Myka’s declaration of love to revisit at some lonely moment later on, HG pushed her phone into her tight trouser pocket and joined her fellow agents.

The short walk to the next block took no time at all and they all flashed their credentials at the barrier as they arrived, Pete asking if they could speak to someone in charge before they entered.

Overseeing the security of the facility, a Mr. Evans escorted the trio of agents inside and expressed his relief that the case was still under active investigation.

“I thought for sure you all had forgotten about us.” He led them passed a series of small offices to a walkway looking down on the inventory he was in charge of protecting. “Employee turnover has skyrocketed since all this business started. Guards are spooked, keep sayin’ they can hear voices and footsteps round every corner. I don’t have the time to nanny them. I’d appreciate it if you could wrap this mystery up quick like.”

“I assure you sir, we take our work very seriously,” HG nodded towards her fellow agents and turned to start down the metal staircase, only stopping in her tracks when Pete decided to open his mouth.

“Whoa! Is that Steve McQueen’s motorcycle from The Great Escape!?” He ignored HG’s eye-roll and Steve’s face-palm and pushed passed them both, running like a 12 year old down the stairs. “I don’t remember seeing that last time.”

“Thank you Mr. Evans, we’ll call you when we’re ready to leave,” Agent Jinks dismissed the frowning overseer and nodded to Agent Wells to take the lead after Pete, smiling patiently at the disgruntled expression on her face.

 


	12. Chapter 12

Light danced off a glass of water on the window ledge. Tourists ooh-ed and ahh-ed, and cameras clicked from a story below. Traffic surged and crept in fits, busy cabs and impatient office workers returning from lunch honked the slightest obstruction. Still, the occupant in this room remained silent; her eyes closed and mind on more important things than the view from her hotel room window.

Mousey-brown strands of cropped hair protested against the product they’d been smothered with and bounced back every time a hand reached up to flatten them. Features of a woman barely out of her teens were scrunched up in desperate thought; lines of stress creasing an otherwise smooth forehead, until there came a sigh of defeat and the figure flopped back onto the bed.

“There has to be a way,” she muttered to herself. “Think damn it!”

With a wild gesture of her hand, a small object flew across the room and narrowly missed a mirror. Cursing, while thanking fate that she hadn’t damaged anything, the young woman rolled off the bed and retrieved said item, checked that it was still intact and looped its long chain around her neck to keep it close and out of harm’s way.

Ever since arriving in America, her carefully laid plans had begun to fall apart. First, she couldn’t account for how she’d managed to arrive in LA and not South Dakota, and then, within an hour, she had broken the artefact. Now, there was nothing to do but figure out how to make a new one.

Her smarter than average mind chewed over the issue and she was forced to believe that fate was taking a hand in her mission. How was it that she’d arrived in the same place that her original artefact hailed from? Was she meant to come to LA regardless? Would the artefact have broken if she’d gone to South Dakota instead? She had a feeling that the pieces of this puzzle wouldn’t come together until her mission was complete, but to do that, she had to figure out how to create a new artefact.

Nothing in her research had told her how her borrowed trinket worked in the first place. In hindsight, it had been a mistake not to delve deeper into its history but she simply hadn’t anticipated needing a new one.

“And if I don’t figure out how to make it work, I’ll be stuck here forever,” she grumbled, a hitch in her voice betraying her building fear. “Unless I just cease to exist. Perhaps that would be preferable.”

She thought about it for a moment; the difference if she’d never been born... Her parents never to meet; her siblings blinked out of existence too; her entire family just a speck of something marvellous that could have been...

No. She couldn’t... wouldn’t give up. So much was riding on her getting this right.

Her thoughts returned to the artefact and the attempts she’d already made to unlock its potential.

For the first week of her arrival, she had flitted between dwellings as she cased the warehouse and eventually found a way to enter undetected. Courtesy of her mentor, she had possession of an item that would temporarily knock out any camera feed in her immediate vicinity. This allowed her to slip in unnoticed, in the dead of night and leave no visual evidence. In addition, she had a useful stun-gun of her own co-creation that caused temporary memory loss. The few guards that she’d run into had been very pliable after a quick dose and easily persuaded into taking a month’s leave from work.

Time was running out now though. By her calculations, those guards would soon be coming to their senses, and once they returned to work, her chances of staying under the radar were slim.

Donning her jeans, t-shirt and trainers, the lithe brunette prepared to make another pass of the place. In a moment of brilliance, she had attained a position as a courier, carrying small packages to and from the props warehouses and movie studios in the area. Most of those items were just requisition forms for temporary use of props, but it didn’t matter to her as long as she had an excuse to enter the facility. Plus, the supplement to her dwindling cash was a welcome addition.

After pulling a cap over her short curls, she grabbed her backpack and marched with determination from her room. Out on the street, she forced her gait into a more casual stroll, better for staying under that radar. Her pickup was quick; she signed for the package with her fake name, Helen Faucit, and chatted briefly with the guy behind the desk, slipping easily into a smooth mid-western accent; nothing too brash or forced, just another voice amongst the many. She remarked pleasantly on the traffic and the weather before bidding him farewell and walking the block to her destination.

Her training in subterfuge and undercover espionage had been part of a family hobby, games played in the forest bordering her parents’ property. Hide and seek in full combat gear with camo-makeup; points given for staying hidden the longest and marking the most ground. Tig was almost the same, in reverse. Her folks had encouraged her to pursue her hobbies and follow the path she wanted to walk, but they insisted on her knowing how to defend herself and others, and how to hide in plain view.

Putting on an act to fool others into thinking she was someone else had been her favourite game, mostly because her natural confidence and love of performing gave her an advantage over her competitors. It was a game she rarely lost.

After signing in at the gate, _Helen_ wandered a familiar path to the office and knocked on the door before being allowed inside.

Karl Evans smiled at her as she entered and handed him the package. She liked the guy; he wasn’t lecherous and appeared to work hard. She noted the strain around his eyes and felt bad for being the cause of his increased stress. Her only redeeming thought was in knowing that everything would return to normal for him soon enough.

“Anything to return?” she asked once he’d finished reading the form.

She prayed for a yes, for a need to wander down amongst the props and have reason to gently question him about the inventory. She’d expressed her interest in performing early on in their interaction, laying the foundation of any subtle future interrogation. Her task would run much smoother if she didn’t have to risk scouting in the middle of the day.

“Just this form,” he said as he signed it and sealed it back in its envelope. He watched her smile automatically but noted the disappointment in her expression. Then he remembered an errand he’d been meaning to take care of, which had been delayed by his concern for his missing guards and the arrival of the government agents. “Unless... Would you like to do me a favour?”

Stopping with her hand on the door, the young woman turned and her smile widened. “Of course,” she answered gratefully, her fingers crossed behind her back.

Rising from his desk, Karl gestured to the door, indicating that the woman he knew as Helen should go ahead of him. “With all the hoo-ha around here lately, I’ve not had time to keep up with all the little jobs. Some things have a tendency to fall by the wayside when times are tough.”

Though that pang of guilt hit her again, the relief she felt at him handing the subject of the disappearances to her on a silver platter, outweighed her desire to make penance. “You’re still investigating then?” she asked in what she knew was a tone of polite interest and a natural desire to hear a little gossip.

Karl chuckled at her carefully concealed excitement. Oh to be young again, he thought. “Yup. I don’t want anyone under my watch to go without justice being done.” He shot her a significant look, thinking that she should know that he could be trusted to help in a pinch. He led her down to the warehouse floor and into a side room, flicking on a light switch as they entered.

On a long bench, a neat row of props lay, and at a glance, the courier knew why they were there. Some were simply scuffed or dented, one or two appeared to have pieces missing, but a few were broken clean in half and in obvious need of repair. She watched diligently as Mr. Evans carefully wrapped two small items and handed them to her. He explained where they had to go and that she was to make sure someone signed for them.

“You’re a smart kid, and I know that getting signatures is your job, but it’s imperative that these are signed for. God knows I’ve lost enough inventory to those thieves,” he muttered. “Trouble is, they’re the best in the business,” he added grudgingly.

“They’re a necessary evil, I understand. I won’t forget the signatures.” As she placed both packages in her backpack, the young woman thought quickly, following Karl from the small side room. “I hope your investigation gets the results you need. Are the police here collecting evidence?” She continued with their interrupted conversation. It would be useful to know who was working the case.

“No, some special government branch is investigating. They say that it ties in with previous investigations. I don’t know.” Walking ahead of the young employee, up the winding metal staircase, Karl missed the sudden expression of concern on her face. “Don’t much care who gets the job done, so long as we get the right results,” he added as they reached the top.

That was when she heard a familiar voice and froze.

* * * * *

After allowing her fellow agents to lead her to where they began their investigation, HG managed to curb her irritation at Pete’s childish behaviour and immediately got to work.

The durational spectrometer revealed nothing interesting, as they’d expected, but the inventor’s added filter brought a whole world of colour that lit the surrounding area, marking the paths of many visitors before them.

Quickly identifying their own markers, each agent was assigned to a particular colour or shade and they soon began making notes, eliminating invisible suspects as paths grew cold.

“This is going to take forever,” Pete bemoaned as he looked down at his list. If only they’d had two more modified scanners, he thought to himself.

HG looked smug as she reached into her bag and pulled out three pairs of blue tinted glasses. “These should speed matters along somewhat.”

“Are these...? How did you...?” Pete’s mind was agog as he floundered to imagine where one would even begin to make new modified durational spectrometers small enough to fit into a pair of specs.

“A lady never reveals her secrets, Agent Lattimer,” Helena teased him.

Pete scoffed. “Lady. Yeah, right. Good one HG.” He was too busy playing with the glasses; putting them on and swivelling his head in all different directions, to notice the hardening of her expression. Only, when he glanced to Steve to get his opinion of how cool he looked, he saw a warning staring back at him. “What?”

Steve’s face was pitying. “Seriously?”

Agent Jinks tilted his head in the Victorian’s direction, but she had already given up on waiting for an apology, simply muttering ‘buffoon’ to herself as she stalked off to find her own area of the warehouse to work in.

“What did I do?” Pete wondered aloud, still puzzled over what he’d done to offend the Brit. “Touch-y,” he eventually mumbled to no one in particular.

Helena walked along a couple of aisles but didn’t go too far; it probably wasn’t the best idea to split up, but working with Pete was a task better performed from a distance, in her opinion. _How the bloody hell Myka has put up with that man for so long, I cannot fathom._ Thinking of her fiancée, the inventor closed her eyes and pictured them together, her arms wrapped around Myka, drinking in her beauty. She sighed. If she concentrated hard enough, she thought she could almost feel the American’s hand in her own.

Calm seeped back into her mind, renewing her ability to concentrate on something other than Agent Lattimer’s childish ignorance of basic etiquette. She wasn’t normally this sensitive to his foibles, but his blasé attitude reminded her of how she would prefer to be at home.

* * * * *

Twelve hundred miles away, while wrapping up for a walk through the park, Myka felt the warmth of Helena’s arms around her and a tingling in her left hand. She gasped at the unexpected sensation. Bringing the hand to her face, she examined it and felt her eyes widen at the bright glow around her ring finger.

Having heard the shock in her mother’s expulsion of air, Christina halted in her efforts to make her scarf-ends equal and turned to face the adult. “What’s the matter, Mama?”

“Do you see anything strange?” Myka held her hand out in front of her, resisting her automatic response of ‘nothing’.

Christina gazed curiously at the appendage but even after turning it over to look at the palm, she didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. “No,” she finally admitted. “Does it hurt? Do you need a doctor?”

Slowly, Myka pulled her hand back and resumed putting her gloves on. Seeing the concern on her daughter’s face, she shook off her shock and smiled, leaning down to kiss the eight year old on the cheek. “No Sweetheart, it doesn’t hurt.” She picked up a vibrant pink and purple striped, woollen hat and popped it on top of dark curls, her smile widening at how adorable the girl looked. “It was more like a tickle,” she elaborated, downplaying the sensation and keeping her suspicion to herself. “I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.”

Leading them out onto the front porch, Myka locked the door behind them and enveloped her little girl’s hand in her own. In her head she whispered, _I love you too, Helena._

* * * * *

After working non-stop for an hour, meticulously crossing off one trail and another, the agents regrouped to share their findings. Each of their investigations had led them to the same location, following a bright yellow path that not only appeared to begin more than once from the back entrance, but which appeared several times to circle the same boxes, as if the person who’d been there was interested in a particular item.

There were no names on the crates though, only catalogue numbers.

“We need a list of the items in this area,” Steve concluded what they were all thinking. “Shall I...?”

“I believe that would be best, thank you Steve,” Agent Wells responded as she began analysing the culprit’s movements.

“Why can’t you ever just answer ‘yes’ to a question?” Pete asked as Agent Jinks moved out of sight.

HG rolled her eyes and ignored him, though made a mental note to give him a short lesson on manners. He was a good man and a good agent when his mind was on the mission, if only he would stop to think before letting words tumble out of his mouth.

Steve shook his head ruefully as he left Pete with the taste of his own foot in his mouth, though the young ex-ATF officer doubted that the beefy agent knew that the appendage was even there.

He was used to the bickering between his two companions, having worked with them both in Paris, but he’d noticed a definite upswing in the number of jibes on Pete’s end. For a usually mellow guy, he was displaying an unusual amount of sulkiness and Steve thought he knew why.

This had been their mission from the start but neither of them had had much luck in uncovering anything to help them solve the mystery. Artie was certain it was artefact related because the Warehouse kept getting pings on it, so they had continued to investigate. Only, neither his nor Pete’s skills were strongest with this particular kind of mission and Steve could see that it was a sore point for his friend.

Not only was Myka not there with Pete to handle the brunt of the detective work, he complained regularly that his vibes were twitchy and itchy. Lattimer’s favourite hypothesis so far was that someone had ‘Pete Kryptonite’ and was using it against him. Hence the cranky mood swings.

Rounding the last row of towering shelves, he spotted the manager at the top of the stairs and quickened his pace. “Mr. Evans,” he called, unconcerned with the young woman standing next to him.

“Agent Jinks,” Karl acknowledged as he turned to greet the quiet investigator. Holding out a hand, he silently asked the young man to wait as he said farewell to the courier. “Thank you for taking care of that Miss. Faucit. You’ve taken a weight off my mind.”

“No problem,” she smiled, ignoring the twisting of her stomach. The moment she opened her mouth, she felt Steve’s eyes on her. Without another word, she nodded politely and strolled calmly towards the exit.

The intuitive agent watched the young woman for a moment, trying to place his gut feeling. Her words were not lies but something had triggered his sixth sense. When nothing came to him, he reluctantly put the thought to one side and turned his attention to the manager, wasting no time as he asked for a list of the warehouse’s inventory.

Back with the soon to be evidence, Agent Wells was losing her patience.

“Good Lord, Peter! What the bloody hell is your problem?” She slammed her hand down on the nearest box and levelled a penetrating stare at him. He jumped slightly at her outburst but shrugged, staying stubbornly reticent. “If you think for one minute that I will continue to listen to your griping without smacking some sense into you...” She took several steps back as if just thinking about taking her frustrations out on him would tempt her to follow through with the threat. “There is no part of me that wishes to be here rather than with my family. If you have something you must say to get this hideous sulking off your chest, then get on with it!”

Pete played with his glasses, twirling them round by the arm as he stared off into the distance. He couldn’t ignore the fact that HG was right about his attitude but he wished Myka had been there instead; she would have found a less humiliating way of getting him to face his feelings. On top of his frustration, he now felt bad for irritating his friend’s fiancée... no, his friend. They would probably never be close, bosom-buddies, but he respected HG and despite their difficulties over the years, he was happy for her and Myka.

Reigning in his pride, he turned to the inventor and nodded his understanding. “I’m sorry, HG. You wouldn’t have to be here if it wasn’t for me; if I wasn’t...”

“Impotent?” she responded quickly, still annoyed.

“Hey!” Pete cried. Covering his genitals and whispering, “Less of the I-word around Little-Pete.”

Helena rolled her eyes but conceded that it was a low blow. “I apologise. You were saying?”

“It’s my fault you’re here,” he admitted.

“So you thought that the best way to make the most of a bad situation was to see how irritating you could be?”

“No, I just... I hate not having control of my vibes! Not that it’s something I can switch on and off, but I know what it means when it happens. I can’t get a fix on this one and it won’t go away.” He shrugged again but this time it more of a self-pitying gesture.

“I appreciate your candour, and understand that you must be frustrated but you have other skills that you must put to use when the situation becomes difficult. You feel impaired without your _vibes_ but if you still wish to feel useful, sulking is not the way to go about it,” she explained with more patience than she felt. Seeing Agent Jinks return with their list, she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Steve, tell me we’ve got something, man.” Pete saw the guarded expression on the agent’s face and reached for the list. “What is it?”

“Item number 34,” Steve answered cautiously. “I’m not certain, but it seems too much of a coincidence.”

Pete scanned down the list of numbers but the inventor had spotted it before he got there.

“It couldn’t be...” she whispered, unbelieving.

“Whoa!” Agent Lattimer exclaimed, turning to the Brit. “What d’ya know; HG Wells’ Time Machine.”

* * * * *

Like a ghost in the wind, the courier disappeared the moment she stepped outside. Heart beating wildly, she cursed her misfortune.

Time. Once a tentative friend, fascinating to ponder, had turned on her, of this she was sure.

“Tonight,” she mumbled to herself, fake accent forgotten as her mind began to formulate a plan and her feet carried her automatically over pedestrian crossings and passed now familiar buildings. “I must do this tonight or it will all have been for nought.”

Feeling as though she owed it to Karl, she completed his errand, signatures and all, thinking that she would return the papers to his office later that night. It hardly mattered if she was caught after tonight; if her efforts to activate the artefact failed, her life was over anyway.

The arrival of the Warehouse 13 agents caused a level of panic in her like nothing else. Her instructions were very precise about not engaging them, but she had a horrible feeling that she had very little choice in the matter.

Regardless, she would have to be on her game because they would be ready for her.


	13. Chapter 13

 “How the bloody hell could my time machine be here?” HG’s incredulous tone carried around the movie props warehouse.

Pete and Steve exchanged a knowing look; the Brit was always touchy about how her ideas had been interpreted for the modern world. “I don’t think it’s yours,” Steve said gently.

Feeling stubborn, Helena dug her heels in. “I beg to differ. It has my name on it.”

“He means it’s not the one you built. It’s a prop from the movie. I hope it’s the 1960 version,” Pete bounced slightly with anticipation. “I love that thing.”

_ Ah, _ she thought, recalling the DVD box cover that Pete had once shoved in her face. “Are you telling me that this _thing_ has become an artefact? How?”

They exchanged glances that searched for understanding in each other’s expressions, but all were equally puzzled. How did an artefact come to ‘life’? They all had their theories and HG remembered asking her old mentor the same question but none of them knew for sure.

“I don’t know,” Agent Jinks was the first to admit. “I guess the only way to find out if it is and artefact is to crack it open. I could be completely wrong.”

“We’ll soon find out. Agent Lattimer, if you would do the honours?” The Victorian stepped back a couple of feet to give the bulky man some room to manoeuvre.

With an unusual amount of care, Pete pushed the small crowbar into a gap around the lid of the crate and eased it open little by little. Inside, the time machine sat, vibrant in colour, the signature disc and red leather chair looking older but still solid in its construction. The childlike agent couldn’t resist the small fist-pump that popped out of him.

Glancing into the crate, Helena spotted the contraption for the first time and wasn’t impressed. “ _That_ is my time machine?”

“It’s awesome!” Pete yelled, his excitement erasing all evidence of his earlier frustrations. How many times had he thought about travelling in this thing? Even after giving up on the idea of returning to warn his dad, Pete had fantasised about the many places he could travel with this machine.

“It’s gaudy,” the inventor retorted.

As the usual voice of reason and compromise, Steve looked to his indignant friend and placed a hand gently on her arm. “It was made for entertainment, not for function.”

“Yes, fair point.” HG sighed, realising finally that she was working herself up over nothing. What did it matter? “Well, let’s find out if it is indeed an artefact.” She took a can of neutraliser from her bag and sprayed it liberally around the inside of the crate.

“Nothing.” Pete said, sounding disappointed.

“I guess it was just a coincidence then,” Steve conceded.

Helena looked to the gentle Buddhist and smiled sympathetically. “Perhaps. I have a feeling we will have to test all of these items to be sure.”

“All of them!?” Agent Lattimer’s voice rose an octave as he looked round at all the crates, large and small. He was beginning to think that he’d rather be doing inventory at their Warehouse.

“The sooner we get started...” Jinks placated him.

It was a long and arduous task. They had to ensure that they didn’t damage the objects inside the crates, but some of the lids were more stubborn than others and more than once, Pete was a little too exuberant with his crowbar. Thankfully, the only things he managed to break were the containers. They would have to apologise and reimburse the owner at a later date.

As well as the careful handling, Steve pointed out that they should try not to disturb the order of the items. If their culprit did plan on returning soon, they didn’t want him, her or them to think that the agents were on the right track. If they _were_ in fact on the right track.

“I still think it’s the time machine.” Pete insisted after almost three hours of searching.

Mr. Evans had discovered them in the midst of their task and was none too happy about their activities, but had been generous enough to allow them to continue with the promise that they would remain careful. He brought welcome drinks and news that one of his guards had turned up at the local hospital, disorientated and confused, but unharmed.

There was a round of debate following this news but there would be no solid answers until they spoke to the guard in question.

“You’re sure that’s not just what you want to think?” Like his favourite super hero’s trunks, Pete loved his toys and Steve was certain that his fellow agent would give himself a hernia if he thought that wishing hard enough would make this particular time machine into an artefact.

Lattimer tried to ignore the strange tingling of his faulty vibes and looked at the facts for a change. “We have HG Wells _here_!”

Helena secretly agreed with Pete for once but didn’t want to commit to her gut feeling just yet. “It appears as if we’ve reached a dead end.”

“Another one,” Pete grumbled.

“Quite,” she responded in a subdued tone. Thinking that there wasn’t much left for them to do in the warehouse, she began searching in her bag. “I suggest we visit the guard at the hospital and then return to the hotel to recuperate. I will set up some early warning signals, in case our suspect decides to return before we do.” Looking at their despondent expressions she felt a pang of regret that she hadn’t been of more use to the investigation. “With any luck, we will have our answer by morning.”

The trip to the hospital was short. The security guard, a Mrs. Hanford, could recall very little from the night she’d gone missing. She remembered arriving for work, signing in and watching everyone else clock out for the evening. She had gone about her rounds in the usual fashion and was walking amongst the aisles when she heard a voice in the dark.

“Did you notice anything about the voice? Gender? Accent?” Helena began their interview once the statement was out of the way.

“Yes, it was a woman and I think the accent was English, like yours,” the guard pointed at Helena.

With a look, Steve warned Pete not to comment and filled in the next question. “Was there any emotion you could detect, anger, excitement, frustration?”

“Frustration I think. She said ‘bloody hell’ a couple of times.” At this point, Mrs. Hanford shot the Brit a quizzical look, almost as if appraising what she would look like behind a mask.

“It’s hardly an uncommon expression in England,” HG defended herself irritably. She was tired and beginning to believe that all of this trouble was somehow linked to her, whether she knew it or not, which meant that she might only have herself to blame for being divided from her lover and daughter.

“All I remember after that is waking up in a hotel room in Jacksonville.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I had no idea how I got there or when, but I felt good, rested, and I had a few essential things with me, my ID, my meds and a few clothes. I must have gone home first, I just don’t remember doing it.”

The agents thanked her for her information and wished her a speedy recovery, asking her to contact their director if she remembered anything else, though they agreed that it was unlikely.

Helena suggested that they head back to the hotel right away where they could check in with Artie and then turn in for the night. She was eager to call home; it still wasn’t very late. Pete vetoed that plan immediately and, with his stomach growling, dragged them all to a late night diner, insisting that they needed to refuel as much as they needed sleep. Steve and HG ordered light and ate quickly. The inventor attempted small talk with the approachable Agent Jinks, but when their colleague ordered seconds, she glared at Pete until he gave in and asked for the rest of his meal to go.

Almost an hour later, approaching eleven pm, Helena stepped into her hotel room and closed the door firmly behind her.

She had expected the need to relate their findings to Artie; they hadn’t taken much time to do so earlier in the day, but when he insisted on knowing every minute detail, she began to wonder if he was punishing her. Whatever his reasons, the director wanted everything and was grumpy to a point of being mean. When confronted, he mumbled something about Regents and Mrs. Fredrick withholding information, but wouldn’t elaborate any further.

Lingering in the doorway, the Brit debated over calling Myka right away or getting ready for bed first. Thinking that it would be nicer to relax to her fiancée’s voice while in bed, HG hurried to undress, pulled on clean underwear in case of a middle of the night emergency and slipped into the bathroom to complete her ablutions. In no time, she was under the covers with her phone pressed to her ear as she waited for her partner to pick up.

“Helena,” Myka sounded tired but relieved when she answered, adding, “I miss you,” after barely a pause.

HG felt her voice stick in her throat, tears welling unexpectedly at that declaration. “Oh darling, I miss you too. I doubt I’ll sleep worth a jot with you not beside me.” She wanted to say that they were almost finished and that she’d be on the first flight home in the morning, but it simply wasn’t true. Though she had flat-out refused to stay more than three days, Artie was insisting that this time they stay until the job was finished. “We took your suggestion and narrowed down the pheromone trails. We can at least track our suspect now.”

“You would have thought of it too Helena. It’s your invention now, after all.” Myka didn’t want to take anything away from the Brit’s own detective skills so downplayed her own role.

Smiling to herself as she recognised her partner’s generosity, HG knew that she couldn’t take all the credit. “I can’t deny that, love, but you were the first to think of it. You’re brilliant. We make an excellent team.”

“Yes we do.” Myka agreed, feeling a sense of pride fill her up. “I’m going to get the full report from Artie or Claudia in the morning. We’re heading over to the B and B for breakfast, but do you want to summarise for me?”

Tired though she was, Helena gladly repeated their day’s activities to her lover, including the guard’s statement and the fact that they’d left silent intruder alarms in case the subject returned. “I truly hope something happens tonight. I have a feeling we’re not going to have much luck catching this woman in the light of day. She knows how to cover her tracks too well. At least, those she knows about,” she added smugly.

Myka’s tone was one of surprise after hearing about Mrs. Hanford. “She didn’t harm the guard? Is it possible that none of the guards were harmed? Maybe Claudia could search for them through CCTV footage. We have their IDs.” Her analytical brain was whirring, trying to connect all the pieces. It was at this point that she relayed Claudia’s instinct about the Warehouse. “But why would it do that? Work against us?”

Helena took a moment to think but soon shook her head, knowing there wasn’t much use speculating. “I have not a clue, love. The Warehouse’s motivations are often a mystery. I suppose we must trust its judgement, if indeed it is deliberately hampering our investigation. I think there is little we can do if it is.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. It just seems so strange; it’s always been on our side before.” Her lover was out in the field. Why did the Warehouse have to choose now to shift allegiances?

“I believe it still is,” the inventor admitted hesitantly. “Whatever is occurring here and within the Warehouse, it is likely connected. I don’t believe it is a coincidence that I am here and our suspect is hovering around a model of my time machine. What I don’t understand is why they have not yet taken it. Our evidence indicates that she has entered the facility at least three times. Does she intend to use it in situ?”

“You think she’s waiting for something? You said that you tested it with the neutraliser and as far as you can tell, it’s not an artefact?” Myka asked for the benefit of the conversation, as she already knew the answer.

“It’s not an artefact,” HG insisted. “Consider this though, if it were an artefact, it would imbue the properties illustrated in my book or rather, in the movie, and therefore may indeed have the ability to travel through time.”

“So it’s not an artefact yet, but our suspect might know that it becomes one,” the brunette added, picking up her lover’s train of thought.

“Precisely.” They were both quiet for a moment as their thoughts played with the situation from all angles. “You realise what that might mean, darling?”

Myka nodded to herself, seeing Helena’s conclusion like it was her own. “She could be from the future. It could be someone we’ll know.”

“Yes. So far we have very little to go on to form a positive identity. A young woman with an English accent, that’s all. We may not know her at all, or we may have not yet met, though...” HG didn’t like where her thoughts were taking her, but who would know her stories better than her own kin?

“I don’t think we should jump to conclusions,” Myka interrupted. She too was thinking of someone very close to them and she felt her stomach cramp at the mere thought. “We don’t even know what powers this artefact will have, if it even is an artefact. It could be that we’re investigating to prevent it becoming an artefact in the first place. It’s all conjecture until we have something solid. Let’s not start pointing fingers.”

Helena breathed a sigh of relief and agreed. “Best to keep an open mind, of course. We don’t want to become stuck trying to make the evidence fit and get the wrong end of the stick. Hopefully it will all begin to make sense soon enough.” Checking the time, she felt a yawn waiting to erupt and chided herself at keeping Myka up so long. “You must be tired. Did I wake you?”

“I’m glad you did,” the American responded to the concern in her fiancée’s tone. “I had an hour before you called but I’ll sleep better now knowing you’re in bed too. You must be exhausted.”

“A little,” Helena admitted. “We should both get some sleep,” she added reluctantly. She was tempted to suggest that they keep the line open while they slept but knew that it was an impractical idea. “I will call you in the morning, the moment I have the opportunity,” she promised.

“I love you,” Myka declared, her own tone equally resistant to hanging up.

HG’s eyes closed around gathering moisture and her heart swelled with emotion. “I love you too, Myka. Sleep well, darling.”

“I will. Goodnight, Helena.”

“Goodnight, love.”

Painstakingly, both women disconnected the call and with sighs of regret, placing their phones on night-stands that were thousands of miles apart. This investigation needed to be wrapped up quickly, neither of them knew how long they could cope without the other by their side.

* * * * *

While the streets of Univille were devoid of activity, bar the occasional nocturnal creature on the prowl for a midnight feast, in Hollywood, a continuous buzz of low-key activity persisted.

Sometime around 1am, a lithe figure, dressed all in black, crept through the shadows. After a quick look around, she scaled the side of a wall, climbed deftly over barbed wire, and dropped down on the other side. This was it, the last chance.

Entering through the same easily-jimmied door, she kept a vigilant eye on her surroundings as she made her way through the warehouse in the dark, a device sewn into her outfit already interfering with surveillance. Like a jungle cat, she moved on light feet, searching for the night watch, unaware that her presence had already been detected.

* * * * *

HG woke from a deep sleep to a klaxon sound. She reluctantly shook off the dream characters she’d been conversing with (had she really been introducing Myka to her mother?) and reached for the source of her disturbance.

Sheets were thrown back and her feet touched the floor before she even looked at the device beside her hotel-bed. She knew what that sound meant, and it was imperative that she reach the warehouse before the culprit was done with whatever mission they were on. Having slept in her underwear, the inventor pulled her trousers on before nipping across the hall to check that the men had responded to their own alarm.

Steve pulled back the door, already mostly dressed while Pete hopped around behind him with one leg in his own slacks. “Five minutes,” Agent Jinks assured her and closed the door again.

True to his word, Steve was waiting in the corridor as Helena closed her door behind her, still running fingers through her thankfully obedient hair. It was times like this that she was glad she didn’t have Myka’s wild curls. Though she loved them on her fiancée, she appreciated how frustrating it would be to deal with that mass every day.

As she hurried along with her fellow agents, HG thought of her lover, letting a portion of her brain return to the dream she was immersed in a few short minutes ago. It had felt so real that it was almost like a memory rather than an elaborate fantasy.

She was twenty-four again and had been visiting her beloved grandmother in an attempt to avoid her mother. At that time, she had only been an agent of Warehouse 12 for a couple of years and might not even have been pregnant yet, but in the dream, an eight-year-old Christina was there along with Myka.

It had barely been a entire day since she kissed her love goodbye and left her home for this artefact retrieval, but the absence of that body in the bed beside her, the frequent touches and those ‘just because’ kisses, was like a physical ache that nothing could cure. She imagined delicate fingers sliding over her own in pre-meditated patterns and felt a recurring impression of warmth in her hand. Recalling her conversation with Artie and realising a similar experience from the previous day, she recognised the sensation. _The ring,_ she thought.

Before she could delve deeper into this newly discovered idea, she and her colleagues arrived at the props warehouse and used their credentials to pass the security on the gate. Loathing the necessity, HG put the exciting thought away and focussed her mind on the mission.

* * * * *

Through the dimly lit, cavernous spaces of the storage facility, the three agents crept. The absence of security was confirmation of what they expected to find tonight. No matter though as they’d slipped a tracking device to the guard before the start of his shift.

They each knew their assignments; Steve would keep moving to the rear exit to block the suspect’s preferred escape; Pete was to approach her from behind, and HG would take the opposite side. While Agent Jinks covered the exit, the others were to observe until HG gave the signal for Pete to move in.

There seemed no time at all before they were in place and the inventor was able to find a position to watch the young woman at her task.

The crate with the time machine in was open and a small device, no bigger than a shoe, sat on top. From either end trailed a cable, which the young intruder had attached to the date readout of the movie-prop. It took HG mere seconds to figure out that their suspect was attempting to run an electric current through the time machine.

Unsure whether electricity would work or not, the inventor continued to observe the young woman. There was no part of her body visible except her eyes; her entire physique covered with a figure hugging black material. On top of her head sat a black visor that she’d obviously pulled up to focus more closely on her work and Helena knew that, with those down, the young woman could slip seamlessly into the shadows and disappear in a heartbeat. Despite their age difference, the Victorian knew that she shouldn’t underestimate her opponent and hoped Pete would see the same tell tale signs of experience.

Thinking that they would do best to apprehend the culprit while she was distracted, HG gave the signal and moved in, prepared to pounce.

Pete readied his Tesla, stalking forward and using his large frame to his advantage as he blocked much of the narrow aisle. His vibes were firing their strange new feel on all cylinders and he knew that this woman was the source. Like HG, he saw a skilled fighter under the costume and knew that he couldn’t afford to make a mistake. His arms closed around her slight upper body before she could detect his presence and he pulled her away from the time machine. He felt her kick his shins and moved his head to one side in anticipation of her head butt. She was much stronger than she looked but he held on for all he was worth. He had no idea how she managed it, he thought that he had her trapped, but in the few seconds that she struggled, he felt her twist, then a jolt of pain ran through his entire body, and he was knocked out cold.

Recovering from the attack, the woman in black ducked around the falling agent and narrowly avoided the arm that whizzed past her head from the opposite direction. She rolled backward, side-stepped, twisted and ducked again, all the while assessing her attacker and her exit points.

_ Bollocks!  _ How had they blindsided her? How had they known she was there? Had they been there the whole time? No, she’d watched them leave from the building across the street. Then she remembered and felt like kicking herself. Silent alarms. They were probably on every entrance to the place. _So bloody careless!_

During further evasive manoeuvres, she managed to reach a hand up and pulled down her visor. Immediately, the surrounding area lit up like a Christmas tree and her suspicion about her opponent’s identity was confirmed. Knowing that she might not be able to hold out against the skilled agent in hand-to-hand combat, she began moving the fight towards the open crate in the hopes that she could grab what she needed and escape.

Barely hindered by the lack of illumination, HG didn’t let up, using her extensive knowledge of kenpo to keep the woman on the defensive. Despite not wanting to underestimate the intended thief, she found herself momentarily surprised when blocks and evasion became offensive attacks. Quickly changing tactics, the inventor took a half a dozen steps backward, all the while searching for a hole in the young woman’s technique.

It was a sound strategy and Helena was confident that she would regain the upper hand, but too late did she realise her opponent’s intent.

Flipping over the top of the movie-prop, the plucky intruder grabbed hold of its lever and snapped it clean off. In her haste, she left any equipment that still lay scattered after Pete’s attack and turned to flee.

HG gave chase, anticipating every twist and turn, recalling the path of each new aisle and hoping that Steve might have heard the scuffle and was prepared to offer resistance.

The thief screeched to a halt as she rounded the last corner and spotted Agent Jinks blocking her exit. _I wondered where he’d gotten to,_ a thought floated in the back of her mind. Her brief hesitation cost her dearly and as she turned suddenly, she had to brush past her pursuer, who was ready to grab her arm and sweep her feet out from beneath her.

Years of training meant that her body rolled naturally with the fall but it was the agent’s grip on her wrist that prevented further retreat.

All movement came to an abrupt halt, the women crouched in a dead-heat, gazes locked as each refused to loose their hold; the young woman’s on the broken lever and HG’s on her captive’s wrist. There was a moment when neither of them seemed to know what to do, and then Helena made a snap decision and called out to Steve.

Panicking, the desperate female yanked the agent’s arm forward and used her weight to roll them over, the move successfully releasing the tight grip on her wrist, but causing her to let go of the lever.

It sailed through the air, refracting a single beam of moonlight through its faux-crystal knob, two pairs of eyes following its trajectory, as two hands reached out to catch it.

Suddenly, air felt like it was being sucked from their lungs as both of their hands grabbed the airborne projectile at the same time; the dizzying effect was disorientating, making them gasp at the unexpected sensation. Sparks erupted, momentarily dazzling the inventor, whose eyes had adjusted to the dark, giving the young woman her chance at last.

In those few seconds after the eruption of energy, she realised what had happened and felt a sense of hope at last.

Twisting, she jabbed the agent with the same stunner she’d used on Agent Lattimer and watched the older woman fall with a mixed expression of shock and anger. There was no time to assess the damage or agonise over the turn of events as swift footsteps rounded the end of the aisle. Seeing the determination on Steve’s face, she took a steadying breath, knowing that she had no choice but to incapacitate the last agent. Running at him, she watched his stance widen in preparation for a collision and felt sorry for him. At five feet, she turned to the side and propelled herself along the vertical plane of a shelf, using the supports to push herself higher, turning in the air above the agent’s head. She was behind him before he had chance to process her flight and watched him drop as limply as the other two.

Filled with regret, she gazed down the aisle at the prone woman she’d left behind and sighed to herself. She hadn’t wanted things to turn out this way but knew that she had done the best with the hand she’d been dealt. Knowing that she had to get moving, she closed her eyes briefly, whispering a heartfelt... “I’m sorry, Mum.”... and left.


	14. Chapter 14

As if filled by a plague of butterflies, Christina’s stomach churned with the weight of her anxiety and she nervously ran a hand through dyed, cropped hair. This mission had seemed like it would be simple when she’d accepted it, though she’d had little choice in the matter. There had been no mention of the artefact breaking or any clue of how to activate it from the original model. What if it happened again on the next jump? There would be no going back then; they’d be stuck and it would be all her fault.

A moral dilemma was playing out in her head but she couldn’t see any alternative. It was live or die, and she very much wanted to live. She wanted her parents to be happy and her siblings to exist alongside her.

As her plane touched down in South Dakota, she calculated that the agents she’d left unconscious back in LA would be starting to wake up soon. Her window of opportunity was becoming smaller by the second. How long would it take them to track her back to her hotel room? They had somehow discovered her preferred exit from the props warehouse, so they had to have a way to follow her trail. How long before they traced her call to the airport and found her flight and false credentials? How long before they then linked her name to the courier who Steve had briefly met the day before? How long before her mother put all these clues together and extrapolated her plan? How was she to get to her Mama before all of that happened?

With fake accent back in place, she breezed through customs with her carryon bag and hailed a cab the second she stepped out into the bitter, winter pre-dawn. She promised to pay the driver twice his fee if he could get her to the tiny town of Univille in under an hour, and then sat back and tried to relax as her mind formulated plan after plan, each contingency setting those butterflies flapping again.

* * * * *

Expecting to see at least a pillow beside him, Pete struggled to make sense of the stiffness in his neck, the cold, hard surface beneath him and the dusty plane stretching before his gaze. With a groan, he began to sit up and take stock.

“Oh crappy-crap,” he muttered as his brain caught up with his memory of the early morning wake-up call and what he was seeing now. “Myka is so gonna kill me.”

It took some time, first for him to find Agents Jinks and Wells, and then to wake them up. He recalled the sudden shocks that had put him out cold and asked the others if the same had happened to them.

“HG gave her a good fight, but she came at me like something out of the Matrix, running along the walls and leaping all over the place.” They were all feeling the shame of having been bested by the young thief, but as the last line of defence, Steve was struggling to find his calm centre. “I’m not sure I really stood a chance,” he admitted quietly.

“Regardless of how ineffective our resistance may have been, the bottom line is, she has what she came for and could quite possibly be anywhere, in any time right at this moment.” She checked her watch and quickly calculated how long they’d been inactive. “She has a four hour head start on us. Fortunately, that means if we work quickly, we should be able to see her activities using the durational spectrometer, without needing my adaptations.”

“Whoa! Hold the phone,” Pete stepped into HG’s path, his brow furrowed. “Any _time_? Are you telling me that she made an artefact out of the time machine?”

Recalling the moment with clarity, the inventor pictured the sparks and felt the breathlessness that had given her pause. Somehow, the act of touching the broken piece of the time machine had triggered a significant event and created an artefact. It was a fascinating yet unnerving experience to remember.

“Yes, Pete. She succeeded in activating an artefact and as of yet, we do not know her intentions. We must waste no more time and follow her trail.” Agent Wells side-stepped the bulky man and returned to where they’d concealed their equipment.

“One of us should call Artie,” Steve reminded them as HG set to work with the durational spectrometer.

Pausing, the inventor nodded in agreement, her expression pulling together in annoyance. “Would you be a dear and do the honours?” She asked the calm blonde, her tone full of sympathy for the young man. “I do not believe I can remain polite with that man after last night and we don’t have time to start a debate.”

“I’ll do it,” Pete announced before Steve could accept or refuse the request. “He’s always annoyed with me, so I never notice the difference.” He pulled out the Farnsworth and opened its cover before calling the Warehouse director.

Agent Jinks joined Helena as she replayed the events they’d all experienced four hours ago. It was strange seeing themselves tangle with the young thief and both were suitably impressed by her skills.

“She was professionally trained,” HG observed. “I recognise most of her style. Some of it relies heavily on kenpo and her footwork suggests knowledge of dance or fencing.” It was almost like watching someone she used to know, there was a feeling of familiarity but as much as she wracked her brain, she couldn’t put a name to the person who had bested three Warehouse agents. Helena recalled the conversation she’d had with Myka before falling asleep the night before. The dancing, the fencing, the kenpo... Knowledge of artefacts... The Warehouse helping... Could it be...? Was some future event going to prompt her child to do what she’d never succeeded at? She heard Myka’s voice telling her not to jump to conclusions but couldn’t ignore the feeling in her gut.

She and Steve watched the figure as she leapt over his head and rendered him unconscious. Helena looked to see guilt on his face again and placed a hand over his upper arm. “She had the advantage in more ways than one. There was very little you could do to stop her.”

Slowly, he nodded and thanked her. “I suppose we are further than we’ve ever got before. This should let us follow her wherever she’s gone.” He was holding the durational spectrometer now, pointing it at the image of himself paused while falling to the ground. He moved to play the image again but stopped when Pete called him over.

Helena accepted the device and felt agent Lattimer join her. She rewound, giving herself chance to see the young woman in action again and allowing Pete to see it with his own eyes.

“Capering Catwoman, that girl can move!” Pete followed the figure as she leapt over Steve again and paused as he dropped to the floor. In his excitement, he snatched the item from HG’s hands and rewound again. “Do we know how she knocked us out?”

“No. Whatever she used as the delivery method, it had to be small enough to conceal during the fight but accessible enough use at will,” the inventor explained as patiently as she could manage.

“Well, I’m just glad we woke up here and not at some fancy holiday resort.” As his brain caught up with his mouth, he frowned. “Well... That actually sounds really nice and all, but you get what I mean, right? I don’t prefer hard floors to exotic beaches or anything.”

“We both would prefer to spend time with our partners, no matter the location. I understand. Could we perhaps continue with the investigation?” She nodded to the equipment he’d taken from her and watched as he sheepishly put it back in motion.

Though the woman’s face was still covered, Helena could see the conflict in her stance. She saw the fabric around her mouth move as she spoke to herself in the dark and couldn’t help but feel that there had been regret in those words.

Steve returned and they agreed to follow the trail before they passed the five-hour window and had to resort back to the blue glasses. Outside, they found where their escapee climbed over the wall, but rather than draw attention to themselves by scrambling over too, they returned to the gate guard and informed him that another of his colleagues had gone missing and that they were tracking a suspect.

Finding the right spot on the other side of the wall, they watched as she slunk back into the shadows for a moment and emerged sans mask and with her top inside out, so she merely looked like she might be out for a night on the town.

“She’s just a kid,” Steve commented quietly and saw the same awe he felt mirrored on his colleagues’ faces. “I saw her in the warehouse earlier, talking to Mr. Evans. I think she works for him, though I’m fairly certain that her accent was English.”

They exchanged concerns that their suspect had been aware of their presence all day, but continued to follow for now, each of them keeping watch on their surroundings in case a passerby happened to spot what they were doing.

Thankfully, without incident, they soon found themselves at a hotel. The sleepy desk clerk seemed reluctant to help them at first, but after a few choice words from Helena, he quickly identified their suspect and showed them the register for all guests.

“Helen Faucit; she’s been here about a month. Always pays on time. Friendly sort, but she’s never with anyone. Said she was here on business. Life or death apparently,” he laughed, but saw that the agents barely cracked a smile. “I assumed she was joking. You don’t think she was here to... y’know...” He dragged a finger across his throat with an appropriate sound effect, “Kill someone?”

Steve expected HG to jump in with reassurances as she had taken the lead with the questioning, but when he glanced at her, she appeared to be lost in her thoughts as she stared at the name in the register. “Er, no,” he said quickly, his friendly smile covering his hesitation. “This isn’t a murder investigation. But it is important that we find her. Is she still around?”

“Sorry buddy, she checked out a few hours ago. I’ve been on the desk all night. Saw her go out, she said she was going to check out a new club. Thought she must have had an argument with someone ‘cause when she came back she seemed a bit shook up.” His gaze drifted off a little as he remembered wishing that she had wanted to talk to him. She might have said yes to coffee or dinner if he could have kept her talking long enough. “She said she was checking out and needed to call the airport to book a flight.”

Pete felt a twinge within his vibe and his wandering gaze fell back on the clerk. “Did you catch where she was going?”

“Sure. I remember thinking ‘what the heck is in South Dakota?’” He chuckled again, thinking that they had to find that funny at least, but if possible the agents’ faces were even stonier. “Er, she booked a flight that should have left at 3am, I think.”

“I want her room key,” the inventor demanded as she turned away from the desk, Farnsworth in hand and already calling the Warehouse. There were too many coincidences to ignore, but she had to be sure before telling the others. As soon as possible, she had to call Myka.

* * * * *

Propelling her chair across the office floor, Claudia braced for impact and deliberately ignored the hard stare that the director aimed at her. They were finally getting somewhere and she knew that her boss would quickly forget about misuse of office furniture once he heard her report.

“She’s coming here,” the redhead announced excitedly. “They tracked her to a hotel a couple of blocks north of downtown Hollywood. She’s gone now but they managed to get a name and a positive ID from the guy at the desk. She left on a redeye flight from LAX at 3, so she should have touched down here around 7, local time.”

“Get them back here. I want them on the next flight!” Artie growled at her, all patience with this suspect lost. He felt for sure that he was being played by someone, but wasn’t sure who, yet.

Continuing to ignore his mood, the young techie swivelled on her chair and launched herself back to her own station. “Already booked,” she responded smugly. “They can pick their tickets up as soon as they’re ready. Flight leaves in two hours.”

“Right... well, good then,” he muttered, having nothing else to throw at her, almost wishing that Pete was around to have someone he could legitimately shout at.

Being stonewalled by the Regents and Mrs. Fredrick had put him in a permanent bad mood. He hated being kept out of the loop, and whenever his superiors decided to be tight-lipped, he was guaranteed to have a mess to clean up in the aftermath. Claudia’s confession of her feelings from the Warehouse only confirmed this.

Grumbling to himself as Claudia called Myka to fill her in, Artie jabbed away at his keyboard and recalled the conversation he’d tried to have with Mrs. Fredrick the day before.

_“We both know the Regents are withholding something,” he insisted as the caretaker sat primly in front of his desk, her purse held habitually on her knee._

_Irene’s eyebrows twitched ever so slightly. “You know as well as I do, Arthur, that the Regents have their reasons for withholding information. If they know something about this case, then we will too, in good time.”_

_“And the Warehouse?” he continued, desperate to get something out of her. “Claudia seems to think that our culprit is somehow linked with it, that it ‘likes’ her.”_

_“A rare occurrence, but not unheard of. I’m glad to hear that we are learning more about her.” She cocked her head to the side and a hint of a smile played around her mouth. “Agent Wells’ influence?”_

Despite his best efforts, he had not learned anything useful from her visit and was left with a reminder not to let his agents drag their feet with this case, especially as their suspect was now close by. His new recruits were on high alert and feeling the full force of his irritation.

Across the room, Claudia continued to keep an eye on her surveillance programme while simultaneously blocking out the sound of grinding teeth and reassuring Myka that HG was ok.

So far, all she had managed to get across was that the whole team had been rendered unconscious for approximately four hours.

“How did they lose consciousness? Are they injured? Have they been to a hospital?” Myka was pacing the length of the kitchen as she pictured her lover being hit over the head and let her imagination run away with concussions and haematomas. “God, I knew something had happened. I woke up a couple of times in the night and couldn’t feel her.”

“Well, yeah Mykes. Kinda hard to touch someone when they’re a couple o’thousand miles away.”

“No, I mean...” Pausing, the brunette realised that Claudia didn’t have the finer details of her engagement ring’s powers. “Never mind. I’ll explain later. Tell me everything you know about last night.”

Knowing that her fellow Warehouse grunt was not in the mood for a segway, the redhead relayed the most important details from HG’s report, including her apologies for not being able to tell Myka herself and a promise to call, to talk privately before they boarded their plane home.

“What did you say that name was again?” the senior agent asked once the future caretaker was finished with her report.

“Helen Faucit,” Claudia repeated. “Do you know it?”

The name felt familiar which was why she’d asked the young techie to repeat it but no faces came to mind. “I feel like I should but I’ve got nothing. So, this Helen Faucit has an artefact that could be capable of time travel, she’s in South Dakota and we have no idea what she wants?”

“When you put it like that it doesn’t sound like much, but it’s a lot more than we had and at least she’s no longer at risk of running into paparazzi on every corner.” Claudia tried to optimistic, not wanting to study the sense of guilt she felt through her connection to the Warehouse. “King Arthur is mobilising all his knights to be aware of any crazy happenings in the area, and I’ve got every piece of recognition software watching all the local CCTV for anyone matching the ID we got from the hotel lobby camera. We’ll get her, Myka.”

She heard the comfort and forced confidence in Claudia’s tone but didn’t feel the intended effect. There were too many holes in this case and too many coincidences. She longed to speak to Helena but knew that she would only be doing so for her own peace of mind, to hear her voice. If her fiancée wanted to speak to her in private, she probably had something on her mind that she didn’t want the others to know just yet. Myka thought back to the suspicion they’d shared the night before.

After arranging to catch up with Claudia again later in the day, Myka closed her Farnsworth and went to see if her daughter was up yet. Having been woken early by her bladder and unable to get back to sleep, she’d decided to check in with the Warehouse and was glad she had in light of what she’d learnt.

Deciding that she didn’t really want to wait around for too long, she gently opened Christina’s bedroom door and smiled down as sleepy eyes opened. Perching on the edge of the bed, Myka stroked mused hair out of the girl’s eyes. “Good morning sleepy-head. Do you feel up to making an early start?”

Blinking against the morning sun streaming through her window, the eight-year-old yawned and sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Ok,” she responded without really thinking, just trusting her Mama to have a good reason.

Myka helped the still swaying girl to choose her outfit for the day and laughed with her as she wobbled around on one foot while trying to pull her thick winter tights on. She tugged her daughter’s favourite explorer rucksack from under the bed and found room for an extra pair of tights, in case they ventured out in the snow for too long, and the inherited teddy bear that she took everywhere.

With snow still thick upon the ground, the pair trod carefully on their short journey to the bed and breakfast, both wrapped up snugly in winter gear though their destination was barely a hundred yards down the road.

Once inside the agent abode, Christina hurried to hang her coat and bag up, threw her hat and scarf in the same general direction before catching Myka’s stern look, and huffed to herself as she picked them up and shoved them in the front pocket of her bag.

While the impatient youngster darted off to the kitchen in search of Leena, Myka turned towards the dining room and found the two new agents at the table, arguing in quiet tones.

“Damn it, you should be taking this seriously!” said a tight male voice in a harsh whisper. “We’re hardly in a position to be slacking off. As new recruits, we should be proving our worth.”

Opposite him, a stocky blonde woman slouched, seemingly without a care in the world. “It’s all good dude. Let the egg heads play with the data. Mrs. F recruited me for my mad skills and it ain’t got nothin’ to do with readin’ all this shit.”

“You are possibly _the_ most annoying person I’ve ever... oh!” At the sight of Myka entering the room, the irritated young man snapped to attention, standing to greet his superior. “Agent Bering. Ma’am, we were just reading through the case files while waiting for Agent Donovan to locate your suspect.”

“This isn’t a spot check, Jason, relax.” Myka smiled at his awkwardness as he blushed and sat down. He was skinny and generally small, almost an inch shorter than herself, but she’d seen him training and when focussed, he had a sixth sense that allowed him to anticipate danger a split second before it happened. He was also a bit of a history buff, his field of study being archaeology. She could see why he was a potential asset to the team, though for now he was still very green.

Leaning back in her chair, teetering on the edge of falling, the twenty-something-old blonde surveyed Myka like they’d been friends for years. “What’d I tell ya? Yo, Mykes...”

“It’s Myka, Agent Coombs, or Agent Bering. We haven’t known each other long enough for you to call me anything but my name.” _This_ undisciplined layabout though was not what she had expected from one of Mrs. Fredrick’s finds, Myka thought. She reminded the seasoned agent of Pete though, which was probably how she was able to keep her patience, for now.

“A’aight, Jeese. You two are a bucket of laughs ain’t ya. What-evs.”Letting her chair fall back into place with a jarring crack, she leant forward, arms sprawled across the table. “So this chick like really has a time machine? What is it with you people and time travel? First, your English babe is like the inventor of time or whatever, now we’re lookin’ for some girl who just made an artefact? You guys ever watch that flick about the hot tub?”

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes or say something really unprofessional, Myka tried to steer the subject back to their current issue. “Did Claudia send you a picture of our suspect?”

“Yeah, Little Red pushed it straight to my phone almost as soon as she had it. What of it?” Coombs smirked at the twitch at the uptight agent’s jaw as if she knew how much her attitude was annoying her colleagues and was enjoying the effect.

“I think we need a pair of eyes in town.” Agent Bering’s eyes narrowed at the back and forth lack of respect but still refrained from voicing her irritation. Still, she could get rid of the source for a while. “Since you apparently are not interested in paper work, I thought it would be right up your street.”

Shrugging, Coombs looked at the piles of paper work and felt a sense of relief. “Sure, fine by me boss. I’m up for takin’ a stroll. Might get myself something real for breakfast while I’m at it.”

Once they were alone, Jason sighed and flopped slightly in his chair. “Wish I could get her to leave like that,” he mumbled to himself and then seemed to remember who he was with and tensed again. “Sorry ma’am.”

Agent Bering smiled, remembering how little she had wanted to spend her free time with Pete in the beginning. “It’s fine. I’m sure you’ll find some way to get along, just give it time, and it’s Myka, Agent Wickes.”

“Yes ma’am, I mean... Myka.” He blushed again and sat up straighter, gazing at the lanky brunette expectantly, waiting for orders.

Hesitantly, Myka reached for a file, breaking the intense stare. Her experience with attraction was fairly limited; it had taken the vocal equivalent of a sledge-hammer to make her aware of Sam’s interest, and her first intimate interactions with Helena hadn’t been much better, but something in Jason’s sparkling eyes gave her pause. As the moment passed she shook her head, _don’t be ridiculous Myka,_ she chastised herself before refocusing her attention.

 


	15. Chapter 15

After paying the cabdriver, Christina looked around to get her bearings. The tiny town was just as she remembered it. The same Laundromat stood opposite the hardware store, the post office was closed and the diner’s sign rocked in the wind, its paint peeling around the edges.

Slipping into the shadows between two buildings, she checked that her bracelet was still transmitting its blocking signal. It still had about a week’s worth of power left but she didn’t want to take any chances of being caught too early and sighed a short breath of relief when she saw that the mechanism was still working. Through her bag, she rummaged for a moment until she pulled out a small black box. Tipping the contents into her palm, she studied a silver thimble.

This powerful object had been the only artefact the Regents had allowed her to remove from the Warehouse, other than the time-stick (as her uncle Pete called it). The bracelet, Claudia had helped her make, while the extra-sensitive mask and goggles, and the tiny darts she’d used to alter the guards’ memories and render the agents unconscious, had been the results of many hours spent with her mother. Her parents and extended family had instilled a great amount of caution and respect in her for the artefacts that filled the Warehouse. _They’re not toys,_ she heard the echo of many voices drift along a path of memories.

A gust of wind whistled past, bringing an icy blast and whipping up the lapels of her coat. It was still early and the sun had yet to chase away the sting of night. Feeling her skin begin to prick, she knew she needed to keep on the move, at least until the local businesses opened their doors and she could take refuge for a few minutes at a time. Though she had never knowingly misused an artefact, and though she knew she had permission, it took her a moment to focus her mind into a suitable image before slipping the thimble onto her finger.

Now wrapped in an outfit to suit the cooler weather of the north, Christina walked to the edge of her hideaway and looked out over the still sleepy street.

Her boots crushed the ice beneath her feet and she smiled at the feeling of adequate traction between tread and pavement. The woman whose identity she had temporarily taken, was a couple of inches taller than her, making her feel like she was floating slightly as she wandered towards her old home. She had listened to the woman’s conversation with her husband as the two stepped through customs, discovering that they were headed to the city. There was very little chance that the true owner of this body would show up in Univille and Christina allowed herself to relax a little more as she strolled along, looking to all the world like any other person out for an early morning walk.

* * * * *

“I don’t think the files are going to be any use to us. Helena and I have been researching for weeks now and nothing useful has come of it.” Myka’s tone betrayed the sense that she was feeling let down by the stacks of information she’d read through. She had been convinced that there would be a nugget of evidence somewhere, which would then lead them onto the right track. “I just don’t think we’re going to find any reference to our artefact or the woman who has it.”

“She might be thinking of using it to attack the Warehouse.” Agent Wickes suggested, feeling the need to impress. He watched Agent Bering’s eyebrows scrunch together and recognised how much she cared about doing her job well.

Myka hummed along, not convinced but not disagreeing. “But what’s her motivation? Since there’s no record of her, how can we know what she wants?”

Jason chewed on his pen. Was she really asking his opinion or just thinking aloud? He felt his face flush again. “If she’s a time traveller, there might not be a record to find yet.”

Oblivious to the eyes following her, the seasoned agent rose from her chair and began to wander around the table. “Though from what Claudia tells me, she was in Hollywood to find a way to make the artefact. Why would she need to do that if she can already travel through time?”

“Perhaps she got lost,” Jason offered, beginning to grasp at straws. _She really is magnificent,_ he thought as he watched her, his mouth just slightly open.

“There are just too many options until we find her.” Frustrated, Myka wanted to grab her coat and get out to search round town herself.

They weren’t one hundred percent sure that the suspect was in Univille; they had a record of her arriving in South Dakota and a cab driver’s description of the fare he dropped off in town, which matched closely, but no actual sighting yet and Myka was reminded of the significant lack of security footage from the props warehouse. Claudia was putting all her faith in her gadgets, but the likelihood was that Helen Faucit just couldn’t be caught by modern means. They might have to settle for an old-fashioned approach.

Thinking for a moment, she contemplated asking Leena to watch Christina while she and Jason joined Meghan on her foot patrol. She felt an inner battle begin again. She wanted to join the hunt but remembered the feeling she’d had after leaving the obstetrician’s almost a week ago and placed a hand surreptitiously over her belly. There was a slight roundness there now and an unconscious smile played around her mouth at the thought of her children in there. Then she thought of the young girl in the kitchen and tried to imagine how she’d feel if something happened while she was out. It was all very well encouraging Helena to take a step back and let Christina have her space away from her parents; that was a risk that all parents took, but not when they knew that the stakes were higher. What if the eight-year-old was the target because she had cheated death? What if they were the targets and Christina got caught in the cross fire again?

Myka decided she wanted to stay put, but she looked over the piles of paper littering the table and just knew that it was getting them nowhere to keep slogging through the Warehouse’s files for this particular artefact.

“Agent Wickes, I think it’s time we gave up on reading,” she almost shuddered at those words, but ignored the little voice that screamed at her from inside. She finally noticed the expression of awe on his face but dismissed it as a junior agent looking up to his superior. “As much as Claudia wants to believe that her programmes will come through for us, I think we might have to face facts and accept that the only way to catch our suspect is to search for her on foot.”

“You want me to search with Meghan?” Agent Wickes balked at the idea but tried to rein in his reluctance.

Myka smiled, understanding how he felt. Sometimes it was less productive to work with a partner you found irritating that to go it alone. “No, you’ll cover more ground if you split up, but you’ll have to keep in contact with her.” She grabbed the Farnsworth that she’d been carrying around with her and wandered towards the door to the living room. “I’ll call the Warehouse and explain what we’re doing.”

After talking to and reassuring Artie that they were doing everything they could, Myka asked him to send her anything for the other, less urgent cases to help calm his ire. _“I’m sure we’ll be able to do more once the whole team is here. In the meantime, I may as well make myself useful.”_ It hadn’t taken him long to agree.

Christina returned from the kitchen, with a plate of fresh scones in hand and Myka set to work, letting her young assistant colour-code various pages with Post-its.

“Mama, how do you spell _incendiary_?”

Smiling to herself, Myka spelt out the work and watched the fierce concentration on her daughter’s face. As easy as it was to get caught up in work, with her daughter beside her, the agent kept stopping periodically to appreciate the time they were spending together. She recalled the moment they first met and the almost instant bond she’d formed with her little girl. Somehow, her life was inexplicably entwined with the Wells women and she wondered if she would ever understand why.

The girl finished her writing with a flourish and stuck the blue Post-it on the front of a file with neat precision. “I do like these,” she said, fiddling with a stack of yellow squares. “They’re ever so useful.”

Considering that Helena’s workshop, their study and Christina’s room were plagued with the small pieces of sticky paper, the lanky agent assumed that the two time-travellers would eventually tire of the novelty, but they continued to be delighted and Myka found their simple joy adorable.

“Your mother apparently thinks so too, there are enough of them around the house.” A sudden buzzing came from her pocket, followed by the theme from The War of the Worlds. “Speaking of...” she pulled her phone out, happily anticipating hearing Helena’s voice despite the fact that their conversation was likely to be of a serious nature. “Hi, honey.”

“Hello, darling.” HG’s tone sounded weary but held its usual edge of pleasure at hearing Myka’s voice. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to speak to you earlier, love. Are you alone?”

“Christina and I are having fun playing with Post-its,” she tickled the top of the girl’s head and let her hand travel down the length of her hair absentmindedly.

“Can we have a moment in private?” Sounding strained, Helena reluctantly avoided asking more about her daughter, adding quickly, “I don’t know when I’ll next have an opportunity to get away before our flight leaves.”

Myka tried to keep the concern from her expression as she rose from the table. “I’ll have a look,” she said vaguely, and then turning to her daughter added, “Keep making notes, Sweetie. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Christina’s eyes tracked the adult’s movements, scrutinising her behaviour until her Mama kissed her on the forehead and whispered, “I’ll explain what I can when I return.” She pulled a face; adults were annoying when they insisted on keeping secrets. She doubted that her Mama would tell her everything and her displeasure showed as she turned back to the folders on the table.

Myka made her way upstairs, thinking that Pete’s old room would be the best for privacy, even if it did smell slightly of used socks. “Our daughter really doesn’t like being left out,” she mentioned as her feet lighted on the top step.

“Neither did I at her age,” Helena responded with a hint of amusement.

“Hmm, I’ll bet.” She closed the door behind her. “Ok, first tell me you’ve had medical attention.”

“I’m fine, Myka. We all are.” Helena used her most confident tone but knew that her fiancée would worry anyway. She probably would in Myka’s shoes, but she didn’t have time for a debate. “Doctor Calder can perform a check up when we return but there’s little any of us can do at this moment.”

“Alright.” The lanky brunette nodded reluctantly to herself. “Tell me about the attack then. Claudia gave me the highlights.”

“Darling, I’m trying very hard not to jump to conclusions but I do feel that the evidence is mounting in favour of our suspicion. Did Claudia relate to you her alias?” she asked softly, aware that, though she stood away from the crowd, there were many other people waiting in the departure lounge with her.

“Helen Faucit? You know her?” Myka was surprised and couldn’t help but let her thoughts run wild. Was this namesake an ex lover? Someone from her past?

“It may be merely coincidence but Helen Faucit was a stage actress in the mid eighteen hundreds and a friend of my grandmother’s. One of her most celebrated roles was as Hamlet’s Ophelia.” HG waited patiently while her lover absorbed this link.

_Well, that changes things,_ the lanky agent thought. “Someone you knew, with a name similar to yours and who played the character that I’m named for? That’s some coincidence.” Myka let the thoughts sift through her brain, looking at the information from all angles. “Would Christina have known her?”

“I introduced them shortly before Helen died. I think she may have been the inspiration for Christina’s fascination with the stage.” Thinking back to the early hours of the morning, she added, “I wish you could have seen her fight. She quite clearly has an amalgamation of our styles.”

Myka heard her lover sigh and knew she was struggling with the probability that Christina was near them in adult form. The dawning understanding was hard for to grasp as well. “You haven’t told the others, have you?”

“I wanted to pick your brain first, love.” She smiled at the chuckle that came through the receiver, but added more seriously, “She’s our daughter. I wanted your opinion.”

“Thank you,” the brunette said softly. She desperately wanted to kiss Helena right now and made a mental note to do so the moment she was within arms’ length again. “I’ll get a message out to Agents Wickes and Coombs; they’re out on the lookout at the moment. We gave up on the research so I sent them out. Jason was more than a little relieved; he’s struggling to keep his cool with Meghan.”

HG made a sound of disgust. “I find it difficult to like that woman too. Do you know I caught her biting her fingernails and spitting them across the room the other day? It’s like she was raised by wolves!”

Myka suppressed the urge to laugh at the inventor. She was sure that there had been plenty of Victorians with worst personal habits, but within Helena’s circle she supposed that they were few and far between. “We agree then? We’re going to warn them that they might be going up against our pride and joy from the future? You know, I don’t feel right, accusing her like this.” A feeling of unease churned inside her. She couldn’t put her finger on what felt wrong.

“Neither do I, darling. However, I fear that it’s the only sensible course of action left to us.” Her deep sigh was clearly audible through the phone-line. “Better to be safe than sorry?”

“Yes. We don’t want any accidents. I think it’s better if we’re all prepared for what we might find.” She pictured the grainy image Claudia had managed to extract from the hotel camera in Hollywood and wondered again if it could possibly be Christina, or if they were simply letting their imaginations run away with them. She remained sceptical but put her faith in Helena’s instincts. She wasn’t sure she would understand her lover’s conviction until she saw their suspect for herself. “How long do you have before you board? Do you want to speak to Christina?”

“Yes, but in a moment. Boarding will be a while yet, I just wanted to ensure that we had time to talk without prying ears around. Now that’s out of the way, you can tell me a little about your day.” HG had wandered slowly back to the assembled passengers but took a seat on the outskirts of the crowd. Steve was watching the planes taxiing back and forth, and Pete had yet to return from the bathroom, so she had a little remaining privacy to catch up with her loved ones.

Myka closed her eyes and breathed the first thought that came to mind, “I can’t wait to see you, Helena. Two days feels like a lifetime without you.”

“I know, love.” The inventor lowered her voice as she blocked out the world around her. “The moment we’re alone, I want to feel every inch of your skin against mine. I want you wrapped so tightly around me that we won’t know where either of us begins or ends.”

“God, that sounds perfect.” Even surrounded by Pete’s remaining belongings, the lanky agent found it easy to let her lover’s words wash over her and ignite her desires. She was acutely aware of how exhausted her fiancée must be though, after two days with very little sleep. “At the very least, tonight I want to be in your arms. You sound like you’re falling asleep on your feet. How long did you manage to sleep last night before your sensor alarms woke you up?”

“Perhaps two hours. I suppose I should get some rest on the plane if I want to have any hope of seducing you later.” She calculated the likelihood of falling asleep while surrounded by strangers and knew that it was slim, but perhaps with the right motivation, she would manage.

“Yes, drooling on your pillow might be cute, but it’s not exactly sexy,” Myka chuckled at the image, recalling a few moments when she’d woken before the Victorian and witnessed this phenomenon.

Used to the teasing now, Helena smiled, though schooled her tone to sound indignant. “I do not drool!”

“Or snore?” Myka pushed.

“Or snore!” HG insisted. Making her accent a little stronger than normal, she launched into a proclamation of cool outrage, “I am a Wells and we do not submit to such mortal failings. Though it is natural for one’s body to perform such involuntary actions whilst unconscious, you should know by now, that I am always in control.”

“Mm-hm.” Myka could barely keep the smile from her tone as she responded; Helena’s voice was having its desired effect on her nerve endings, sparking a ripple of anticipation along the length of her body while her voice became a purr. “Honey, tonight I guarantee, if you are in any fit state to do more than sleep, you will not be the one in control.”

“Well...” All playfulness quickly forgotten, Helena swallowed hard, feeling the mind numbing power that came with images of Myka taking charge. Tonight couldn’t come soon enough. “I imagine exceptions can be made,” she responded weakly.

* * * * *

Moments after they were seated on the plane, HG launched into her explanation, earning her and her companions cold looks from the steward when their conversation continued through his demonstration of the safety features.

Pete’s eyebrows shot up towards his hairline once the reality of the inventor’s suspicions hit him fully. “You’re telling me that our little CJ got the drop on all of us and is now loose with an artefact and we have no idea what she wants to do with it?”

Running her fingers through her hair, HG sighed. She had a feeling she knew where his train of thought was going. “In the simplest of terms, yes.”

“If I get home and Lila tries to kill me with an axe, you and I are going to be having words,” Agent Lattimer waved a finger in her direction, remembering all too clearly the vision of Kelly chasing him around her veterinary office.

Helena bit her tongue. She still harboured a certain amount of guilt for that incident and understood Pete’s concern, but she balked at the implication that her daughter could be capable of the same feat. “So far she’s made every effort not to inflict permanent damage so I think you’re safe.”

Steve watched Pete’s expression morph into scepticism and decided to cut into the conversation before another argument could brew. “It makes a certain amount of sense, but I thought actual time-travel wasn’t possible. You weren’t able to change the events of the past at all. Why would she think that she could? Is it really possible?”

“I couldn’t create a machine that was capable of full corporeal time travel using the tools available in the nineteenth century. I have not since attempted to reapply the same knowledge. I have had very strict instructions to leave the subject alone and focus my attentions on other pursuits.” She let her gaze wander slightly as she recalled the hint of threat in the Regents’ expressions. “However, my hypothesis would be that the creation of an artefact somehow bypasses the complexities of time and space. Until we know how she intends to use the artefact, we cannot begin to understand the consequences of her being here.”

Pete’s expression glazed over the longer Helena talked and Steve had to suppress the urge to chuckle. He didn’t have a great understanding of physics or science himself, beyond the basics, but comprehended enough of what she was saying to get her meaning. “You’re worried that she could be repeating your mistakes and are wondering what could have happened that would make her want to attempts to change things.”

HG nodded, her eyebrow raised in surprise at his insight. “I have no need to tell you that my state of mind after Christina died was not at all stable.” _That’s certainly an understatement,_ she thought. Even remembering that painful period brought back a fire that could never be fully tamed. “That she has her emotions under control is a positive sign.”

“Artie seems to think that Mrs. F and the Regents have inside information,” Pete reminded them.

“And Claud’ is getting vibes from the Warehouse,” Steve added, feeling the evidence pile up. “So you think she might be working for them? If she is who you think she is, she could be an agent.”

Closing her eyes, Helena felt a stab of mixed disappointment and pride. “It seems useless to speculate. The evidence may just be coincidence. We need to concentrate our efforts on finding her, but as there’s little we can do from here, might I suggest we try to sleep?”

At the mention of a nap, Pete’s mouth stretched open in the form of a yawn and there were no protests as, one by one, each of them wandered off into their own thoughts and attempted to relax.

* * * * *

Exhausted but determined, Christina tucked her hair into her hat and made sure her gloves were on tight, covering the thimble on her left index finger. She glanced into her reflection in the diner window and exhaled a long sigh.

After today, she would turn herself into the Warehouse and ask for amnesty. With her task completed, she would be under the Regents’ care and be preparing to take the last onerous step in her mission. That was, if her mother hadn’t killed her first.

Knowing that the agents she’d left in Hollywood couldn’t be far behind her, she was staking out the bed and breakfast, waiting for Myka to leave with her younger self. She really hoped it wouldn’t take much longer and when they emerged shortly before midday, she felt the flapping in her stomach return. _The timing has to be perfect,_ she thought repeatedly as she picked up her package and moved towards the exit.

* * * * *

At an undisclosed location and surrounding a large oval table, half a dozen regents, Mr Kosan and Mrs. Fredrick sat. Other than the head regent, caretaker and Jane Lattimer, the assembled colleagues were tense and bore expressions of a group of people who anticipated the coming of the apocalypse.

“She has proven before that she cannot be trusted to put the world’s interests before her own in situations such as this,” a broad shouldered man with a stubby beard scowled across the table.

Many heads nodded in agreement but a few remained uncertain. At the apex of the table, Adwin stared thoughtfully at his hands while listening to the opinions that ping-ponged back and forth.

Halfway down the table, opposite the grumpy, unshaved regent, a man half the size of his colleagues raised his voice. “She has had time to redeem herself and seems to genuinely regret her actions. I don’t think she would follow the same path. I think this is the perfect opportunity to test her resolve; to prove once and for all that she can control herself.”

“Or not,” the stocky pessimist added. “I trust that this time, when she pushes the extremes, she will be dealt with permanently, regardless of her associations?”

Grinding her teeth, Jane imagined throttling her odious colleague for a moment before reining in her anger. She didn’t necessarily trust Agent Wells to behave in a reasonable manner either, when the time-traveller thought her loved ones were in danger, but his attitude suggested a personal grudge against HG that she couldn’t tolerate. “You’re short-sighted, Congrave. Adwin, I think we should be careful not to act rashly where HG is concerned. She has been making great efforts to stay away from artefacts until now. I think above all, she just wants to enjoy and care for her family. Isn’t that something we can all relate to?”

Mr. Congrave snorted. “If she’s so eager to stay away, then why did she insist that Arthur send her instead of Agent Bering?” Turning to the head regent, he added, “I assume you know about this?”

Adwin inclined his head slowly. “I do. Are you equally aware that Myka is pregnant?”

“Everyone knows that.” Congrave responded dismissively. “I don’t see what difference it makes. I didn’t realise that we were squeamish about sending expectant agents into the field. Hell, it didn’t stop Agent Wells when she was pregnant with the daughter she claims she couldn’t live without!”

“It’s different because of that loss. An event like that leaves emotional scarring on a person’s psyche.” Lattimer argued.

“Which is precisely my point. HG Wells is reacting to just the idea of losing someone by forcing others, even the woman she supposedly loves, to bend to her will.” He squared his shoulders, his eyes scanning the faces of the people around him. “If she can do that to the people closest to her, what horrors is she likely to inflict on the world when she finds herself alone again?”

Jane bit her tongue when she realised that her next retort had nothing to do with Helena Wells. “I think Mr. Heath has HG’s measure. She’s worked hard; with us, with the counsellors, and with the other agents. She’s followed our every edict without complaint. I don’t think we need to be afraid of a repeat of history.”

“But?” Mr. Kosan prompted when he heard the hesitation in the astute woman’s tone.

Jane faltered, wondering if she should voice what sat at the back of her mind. Before she could make a decision though, Mr. Heath spoke up. “I think Regent Lattimer and I are in agreement that Agent Wells is more likely to be a danger unto herself if she believes that her daughter and Agent Bering are lost forever.”

“You think she would take her own life?” Adwin questioned softly. The same thought had occurred to him so he was interested to know how many others agreed. “What do the rest of you think?” There were murmurs around the table, most of the regents considered the opinion a serious possibility. Ignoring a muttered, ‘well, it’ll solve the issue of what to do with her’, Mr. Kosan turned to the caretaker. “What do you think, Irene? You’ve had closer contact with her than the rest of us.”

“Agent Wells will want to do everything in her power to see the safe return of her fiancée and child, but I don’t believe that she will disregard the safety of others in the manner she has before. I think it possible that she would risk her own life, but I doubt we will reach a point where she feels that a last resort is necessary.” She re-crossed her legs and moved closer to the table to gaze around at the assembled regents. “From reading Chaturanga’s journal entries pertaining to this situation, I think we’re all aware of who we’re dealing with. I’d be very surprised if Agent Wells hadn’t guessed it herself by now. Therefore, I think we can safely assume that we only have to wait for the answers to come to us.”

“You think that Christina Wells will just give herself up? What makes you think she hasn’t grown as arrogant as her mother?” Corgrave spoke up again, feeling that this meeting wasn’t going at all the way he’d have liked.

“Quite simply, I put my faith in the Warehouse.” The room’s conversational whispers died down as Mrs. Fredrick wrapped up her case. When it came to knowing the inner thoughts of that mystical entity, there was one person who always had the deciding vote. They all listened to what she had to say on behalf of the Warehouse. “I expect Christina Wells because it does.”

* * * * *

Now shovelled clean of most snow and ice, the footpath outside the diner was no longer so treacherous as Christina stepped once more into the frigid cold. With the sun high in the sky and the biting wind calmed to a gentle breeze, her change of disguise wasn’t quite as onerous as expected. Her brown trousers and jacket were thick enough to keep out some of the chill, but she prayed that she wouldn’t have to be outside long without a coat.

 The street was busier now but it meant that there were more people to bare witness rather than granting her the preferred anonymity of being in a large crowd.

Passing the front of the bed and breakfast, she resisted the urge to glance inside to see who was around. Though she knew that her mother wouldn’t be there, and as she had seen an hour earlier, the agents were back out, searching for her, the temptation was still strong. Many of her fondest memories of living in this town were of the friendships she’d built with the people at the small rest-stop. Claudia and Leena in particular had been of great comfort during some of her most difficult times.

Leaving the commercial area of town behind, she followed the two figures ahead of her, watching her younger, care-free self skip and chatter with abandon. She smiled with a mix of amusement and melancholy. While her life had been far from miserable, she knew that the little girl before her would never be this innocent again. Her young life was about to be sent into a tailspin and she would need to dig deep to find the strength to fight her darkest fears.

* * * * *

Rolling her eyes fondly at the whirlwind of energy that blew past her, Myka closed the front door behind her and began to sort through the mail. She watched out of the corner of her eye as Christina tried to untie her double-knotted scarf, but knew better than to ask if she needed help.

Deciding that the mail could wait, she set it aside and reached for her own tightly wrapped accessory, beginning to loosen it just as her pocket started to vibrate. The frustrated determination on her daughter’s face disappeared immediately, a grin replacing it as she recognised the ringtone.

Myka chuckled and dug the phone from her somewhat loose-fitting slacks, putting it eagerly to her ear. “Helena. You’re back?” she asked, thinking it a redundant question but needing confirmation anyway.

On the other end of the line, HG closed her eyes in relief as she heard her lover’s voice at last.

It had taken a while but she had finally managed to fall asleep on the plane. After two days with very little time to rest, she had hoped that her subconscious would be kind to her, but the deeper she slept, the further she was pulled into the dark. An abyss drifted all around her vision, a chasm of coming despair descending on her like a fog, a memory of a time when the world had made no sense and nothing but pain could touch her soul.

Perhaps an hour had passed before the bizarre dream began but it left her feeling out of sorts and less rested when she eventually managed to fight her way back from Morpheus’ grasp. Her first instinct on waking had been to call Myka but she’d had to endure the remainder of the flight and their passage through customs before she could satisfy that urge. Now, with her fiancée’s voice in her ear, she felt her fears begin to fade.

Schooling her emotions into something that wouldn’t bring about an imminent collapse, the inventor tried to sound just happy to be home. “Yes darling, we’re back. We’re walking to the car now and Steve says he’ll drop me at home before continuing to the Warehouse. I’ll be with you soon,” she added, more to convince herself than Myka.

The lanky agent heard the strain in her lover’s voice and wondered how much of it was simply due to lack of sleep. Supposing she could wait until Helena was home to question her, she decided to put it out of her mind for now. “You sound exhausted. How about a bath when you get home?”

“With you?” the inventor’s interest piqued at the idea, making the American chuckle.

“I think that could be arranged,” Myka conceded softly. “Hold that thought.” Hearing footsteps on the path and then a knock on the door, she handed the phone to her daughter and half listened as she answered the summons.

The child grinned, taking the phone in both hands. “Hello Mummy,” her excited voice filled the entrance hall as a gust of icy air blew in passed the agent.

Myka barely considered the delivery woman as she signed for the package, her focus split mainly between the eight-year-old’s spirited retelling of their ‘adventures’ and curiosity over what might be inside the small brown box. She thanked the woman and closed the door once again on the seasonal wonderland of white.

Intrigue getting the best of her, the lanky brunette began to peel off the tape and pulled open the flaps. Something sparkling glittered from beneath the packing paper but as she reached out to touch it, a hand tugged on her sleeve.

“Mama, Mummy wants to talk to you,” Christina told her with confusion and a spark of concern in her eyes. “She says it’s urgent.”

“Helena?” Myka moved away from the box, forgetting its mysterious contents for a moment and turning her back on it.

“Myka? What happened? Is everything ok?” The inventor sounded panicked, confusing the American until she added, “Pete had a vibe.”

“We’re fine. We just had a package delivered,” even as she said this, her brain was processing the link and she felt her body turning automatically. If Pete felt that they were in danger then something had to be wrong. A flutter of dread filled her stomach and she began to put the pieces together.

Christina’s voice drifted through the air, reaching Myka’s ears as if the young girl was much further away...

“Mama, what’s in the box?”

In slow motion, she watched her daughter rise up on her tiptoes, the eight-year-old’s hand reaching out to explore. Myka was dimly aware of her phone slipping from limp fingers and a cry of shock that sounded dim beneath the frantic beat of her heart.

“Christina, don’t touch that!”

A whooshing vortex of air filled the entryway. Swirling frantically, the maelstrom roared, swallowing the only two occupants in the room. When it was gone, Myka’s voice continued for several long seconds to echo in the empty hall, the sound clashing with the jarring thud of heavy plastic and metal against the wooden floor.

 


	16. Chapter 16

 “Sir, the Warehouse has given indication of a curiosity in your neighbourhood. Agents Kipling and McShane are to investigate. Do you intend to accompany them?” A young man in a neatly pressed black suit stood just inside the door to a grand sitting room. He waited patiently as an older gentleman in a high-backed leather chair took his time to answer. “Should I ask him to wait on you, sir?”

“My wife?”

“She is in the library, sir. Shall I summon her?”

“Summon my wife?” He chuckled. “No Percy, you know very well that her tongue is as sharp as any sword. I’ll save you the sting of her ire and have your answer soon. Be so kind as to send a message to Mr. Kipling. He’s to track and observe until he hears more from me.”

“Very well, sir.”

For a man who was getting on in years, the gentleman’s movements suggested hidden strength, and the poise in his stance belayed his wealthy upbringing. In the library, he didn’t take his time to look around but walked directly to the ladder and ascended towards the cat-walk.

“Imbeciles.” Muttered words drifted from behind a shelf, revealing the location of the gentleman’s wife. “Should give the lot of them a piece of my mind.”

“Eleanor? Are the Empire’s leaders making all the wrong decisions again?”

“Useless bunch of good for nothing leeches. If any one of our so called ‘brightest minds’ had an original thought, his tiny little head would spontaneously combust.”

The gentleman leant against his wife’s chair and gazed down at her with a tender smile. “We’ll keep pushing for change. They will have to listen eventually.”

Eleanor sighed as if she didn’t quite believe it but appreciated the support. She smiled up at her husband and leant into the kiss that met her. “Hmm. This is why I keep you around, to halt any plans I might have that would see me behind bars.”

“With all the headaches you give me, why do I stay?” he teased.

“Because I make you look good. Now, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“You wanted to know how well the agents were being trained. Since our little one is up in Filey, likely for the week, I asked the Warehouse to keep me abreast of any curiosities in the area.”

“They have one?”

“Yes, close by. Agents Kipling and McShane are there now.”

“Did you disturb my ranting merely to come to ask for my permission?” Eleanor asked, amused at the idea.

“Woman, sometimes I wonder if you are at all aware of social boundaries,” he grumbled, trying to sound annoyed.

“Oh I am completely aware of them, husband. I just refuse to acknowledge that they are there.”

“Now I’m convinced that it’s your influence that makes our little one so wild.”

“Of course,” she responded proudly. “Minds like hers should not be wasted. Whatever our son’s wife might want for her, I will ensure that she has a voice. She will be the master of her own choices.” She looked up to see concern written on her partner’s face and patted his hand in consolation. “Do not worry; I will cover for you if anyone comes to call. Be careful, love.”

“Always.”

* * * * *

Two casually dressed agents waited a few buildings down from their target, one appearing to loiter against a lamppost while the other fidgeted with ill-suppressed anticipation.

Normally, they would have to wait to hear whispered tales of strange goings on before they were privy to the appearance of a new artefact, but the Warehouse’s caretaker assured them that there was a disturbance close by and sent them on their way. After years in this job, they were sure the moment they spotted the woman and child that they knew where to find the mysterious object.

Being told that they had to wait for a spot inspection though was not something they were used to.

“Why must we pander to a Regent’s whims when they know nothing about the dangers we face on the front line?” The taller of the two, wearing a grey sack-suit and black ascot tie, flicked a stone with the toe of his black, leather oxford. “He’ll be an obstruction to the mission, mark my words. If we fail to obtain the artefact, it will be because he got in the way.”

His partner watched him apprehensively. The older agent was prone to restlessness and the involvement of the Regent seemed to be hitting a sore spot. “You don’t really believe that do you, Rudy?”

Kipling stared at his partner, a pitying glint in his eyes. “The Regents aren’t trained agents you know. They’re just civilians who happen to be of note to someone.”

“You know who his granddaughter is, don’t you?” the younger agent noted a twitch at the corner of the other man’s mouth, now certain of the reason for his partner’s irritation.

Rudy sneered at the reminder. “A reckless thorn in my side, that’s who she is. The Warehouse is no place for a woman, Robert.”

“She’s on the move,” McShane noted of their target, rather than choosing to comment on Agent Kipling’s opinion. He found their newest member to be rather impressive, not to mention beautiful, but was aware that some of his fellow colleagues resented her presence in their midst. “They don’t look like the type to play with artefacts. The child doesn’t look older than ten years.”

“Then they are unwitting victims and are in need of our assistance,” Kipling added pompously. He strolled beside his partner, surreptitiously watching the woman and child.

“They are dressed very queerly. I have never seen a girl’s overcoat to be so bright in colour, and does the woman wear trousers?” Rob chose to ignore his fellow agent’s mood and focussed his attentions instead on the task at hand.

After a moment of closer observation, Rudy decided to agree with the comment. “Yes. Very strange indeed. There may be more afoot here than meets the eye.” He wanted to close in and get the job done, but quickly remembered that they were supposed to wait. “If this Regent doesn’t show soon, we may have to take matters into our own hands.”

“Are you unable to keep track of one woman and her child Agent Kipling?” A stern voice came from behind the two men. “Or are you simply too impatient to follow orders?”

Kipling stifled a cough, keeping his voice low as he answered humbly, “My apologies, sir. It is usually unwise to delay in these cases. We wouldn’t want the local constabulary to involve themselves unnecessarily,” he commented as an additional excuse.

McShane stepped forward. “Do you wish for us to begin, sir?”

“When you’re ready, agents. I shall be close by.” The older gentleman slipped further back into the shadows and prepared to take note of what transpired.

Biting back a remark to warn the Regent not to get involved, Agent Kipling took the lead, directing his partner to take a circular route to approach from the opposite direction. Their ambling had brought them to the edge of the great river, which he noted, would make their task easier if the mark decided to run. He watched her carefully now. As he closed the distance, he began to appreciate her height and noted purpose in the way she walked. Her head turned occasionally, looking to an untrained eye as if she was getting her bearings but he soon realised that she was watching him, and likely searching for his partner. _Clever,_ he thought as he slid a hand into his pocket and grasped the handle of his Warehouse issued weapon.

Just as Agent McShane came into view, the woman stopped dead and appeared to contemplate her options. Rob was closer but had slowed so that his partner could gain on the target and back him up. They watched as she pushed the child behind her and stood tall, waiting for them to approach.

“Don’t come any closer!” She shouted, her voice carrying a note of fear beneath the facade of confidence.

Her body was tense, ready to fight and Agent Kipling concluded that she didn’t intend to give up the artefact easily. Her accent quite clearly marked her as a colonist and from what he knew of Americans, they were brash and prone to acts of recklessness.

Rob tried to appear unthreatening as he stepped forward slightly. “We have to search you, Miss. You may be carrying something very dangerous.”

Her eyes narrowed as she processed this statement and didn’t appear to like the idea. “You will not touch either of us,” she declared angrily.

“Miss, if you choose not to co-operate, then we will have to use force,” Kipling’s sterner voice warned.

“Try it!” she all but growled, her arm reaching out to push the girl closer behind her.

Back in the shadows, the patient Regent shook his head at the amateurish behaviour he witnessed. Eleanor was right to be worried about Kipling’s attitude. So many of his retrievals had ended with someone being hurt and here was the evidence they needed to put him on probation.

He stepped from the shadows, intent on intervening on behalf of the terrified woman who, to any intelligent person, was just protecting herself and her child. Before he could gain any ground though, the impatient agent took a step too close and the woman reacted.

She moved with a grace and strength that he’d only ever seen in one other, but he could tell that she was distracted by the need to keep her child safe. Quickening his pace, he expected the agents to take the defensive long enough for him to reach them, but a split second later, he realised that he’d underestimated Agent Kipling’s impatience.

Fluidly, the young woman turned to McShane after kicking Rudy in the chest, knocking him to the ground. The taller, irate agent pulled his weapon and aimed it directly at her torso. He didn’t wait for her to spin back towards him; she had attacked two Warehouse agents and that was enough of an excuse for him to shoot her in the back.

A child’s scream was all that could be heard over the sizzle of the stun gun before the woman crumbled to the ground.

“Mama...?” the distraught child fell to her knees beside the fallen figure; her gaze fixated on the American’s closed eyes. She shook her mother tentatively before dark orbs rose to stare accusingly at the men standing over her.

Kipling moved in to take hold of her, but a hand on his arm stopped him. “He’s coming over,” Rob warned his partner, hiding the relief in his tone. He’d never been happier to have a superior watching him. “He doesn’t look happy.”

Rudy rolled his eyes. He met the young girl’s vengeful stare and for a moment was reminded of someone he knew. Shaking off the feeling, he turned to meet the advancing Regent. “Sir, she attacked and we had no choice but to subdue her.”

“What I witnessed, Agent Kipling,” the Regent began as he stood eye to eye with the man. “Was a failure to attempt first contact. You made no effort to reason with the woman or obtain her trust. You took no pains to assess the situation and forced an unarmed woman to defend herself against a perceived threat. You will return to the Warehouse and wait for further instruction,” he ordered, his tone brooking no argument. Turning from the impulsive agent, his eyes met the young girl’s and recognised the plea for help. “Agent McShane?”

Rob’s gaze shifted to his superior. “Yes, Mr. Wells?”

“Organise transport for the girl and her mother to my home,” he shot Rudy one last disparaging look before starting back the way he’d come. “My wife and I will care for them until the woman is able to answer our questions about the artefact.”

 


End file.
